


If I Promise

by TAFKAmayle



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 53,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21819652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAmayle/pseuds/TAFKAmayle
Summary: Michael Jones meets the Vagabond while being forced to blow someone in an alleyway. His mouth probably gets him in trouble, but he thinks it can get him out too.TW: This fic contains a Ryan Haywood character.Warning: Very, very blunt and almost joking talk about rape. Seriously, the story literally opens on a sarcastic comment about rape.Trigger warnings: Death, blood, tobacco and (light) alcohol use, drug mentions, broken bones, eye stabbing, blood consumption, incest.
Comments: 118
Kudos: 158





	1. Chapter 1

“Quit complaining!” 

Michael growled around the dick. _Quit complaining about you raping me? Fucking asshole._ His head hit the brick wall again and he grunted. He wished he had the ability to brace himself at all, but any time he wiggled his hands or arms, the bindings got tighter. Some bullshit Boy Scout horse shit knot that fucking hurt. Plus it shortened the distance between the bindings on his wrists and ankles. They were stretching painfully now. 

“Maybe if you fucking tried,” the guy growled, “This would be over.”

Michael really wanted to bite his dick off. He heard a shout down the alleyway as he considered whether it’d be worth the bullet in the head. His eyes moved, but he forced himself not to move his head. There was a dumpster between him and the end of the alley, so he had no idea what was happening. Fuckhead apparently did, as he stiffened, staring wide-eyed at whatever was down there. There were footsteps coming towards them. Whoever it was had just caught the asshole with his pants down. Michael couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up and out. The man hissed, jerking forward as Michael’s laughter vibrated around his cock. His gaze jerked down to Michael who grinned widely around his dick.

“You trying to get killed?!” He grunted.

“Funny, I was going to ask you that.”

The guy froze again. Whoever had spooked him had made it down to their end of the alley. Michael couldn’t see who it was or what they were doing, but he laughed harder at the guys distress. He opened his mouth to growl something at Michael but he was yanked away. Michael coughed between laughter, his throat burning. 

“C-caught with y-your pants down!” He wheezed.

He tried to double over, but the bindings made him wince. He looked up at the new people, trying to quit laughing. He grinned at them. What an unusual group of people they were. Two men, one woman. The woman had his assaulter in a headlock that was slowly making him pass out. Gorgeous redhead with eyes that looked at him suspiciously, but also with great concern. The one next to her, in the point position, was dressed entirely too sharply and was entirely too handsome for a man in an alleyway. He had a really curly mustache and an amused sort of look on his face. 

The last was the oddest of them all. Wearing a skull mask and a leather jacket. The skin around his eyes was painted black, but the eyes themselves would’ve stood out without the darkness. They were a startling blue and ice cold. They stared at him with only vague interest, as though he hadn’t expected him, but certainly didn’t care that he was there. What caught Michael’s attention most was the knife he was twirling in his hand.

There was a brief silence as Michael’s laughter trailed off and the three people just stared at him. The silence was eventually ended when the woman dropped the unconscious man. Michael grinned at his limp form, still giddy from laughing.

“Yo, Myers, you think you could use that to give me a hand?” He called out, nodding towards the knife.

There was a snort of laughter from the middle guy as the masked one looked to him. Michael got the feeling he was silently asking the middle guy if it was okay to free him. 

“I mean, you can just drop me the knife,” Michael offered, “I can free myself if you’re so worried about it.”

Again the masked guy said nothing. Middle guy stroked his beard thoughtfully. 

“If I promise to blow you, will you help me out?” Michael added dryly.

Middle guy snorted again.

“Yes.”

Three heads turned to the masked man. He was looking at Michael with his piercing gaze and Michael had to suppress the urge to shiver. The other two stared at him, mouths open in shock. 

“Um, okay,” Michael answered, “Then untie me and get your dick out.”

Masked guy immediately started towards him and middle guy threw out an arm to stop him. He gave him a look and swiped the knife from him. The woman was glaring at masked guy and Michael wondered what was wrong. The middle guy came forward with the knife. Ah, he was the boss. The boss is the one who gets blown. He made short work of the bindings and before Michael could open his mouth or react, he walked back to the others. 

“I apologize for my friend’s...” he paused.

He passed the knife back with another look.

“Unprofessional behavior,” he finished.

Michael rubbed at his raw wrists and shrugged.

“I mean, I was giving permission,” he pointed out as he got to his feet.

“Still, that was inappropriate,” middle guy continued, “As an apology, please accept this.”

He was holding out a card. A small one, looked like a business card of some kind. Black with green text was all Michael could make out at that distance. He walked forward hesitantly and took the offered card. It had a phone number, the name “Fake AH”, and the word “Achievement”printed on it. Michael felt a squeeze of anxiety. _Fake AH. Oh Jesus._ On the card was their logo as well, the hilarious duck symbol Michael thought was awesome. He’d barely been in LS a few months and he already knew he shouldn’t tangle with these guys.

“Um, what’s this?” He prompted, almost worried it was poisoned somehow.

“A get out of jail free card,” the middle man explained, “If ever you need help for any reason, simply call the number and use the password. It’s printed there on the card. Whatever it is, we’ll do what we can to assist.” 

Michael looked between them with a raised eyebrow.

“Because Jason wanted me to blow him?” He clarified skeptically.

“Because,” middle guy began, throwing a glare at the masked one, “He implied we’d only untie you if you blew him.”

Michael looked back down at the card. That was a heavy price for a misunderstanding. He looked back at the masked guy.

“Hey, Predator, you wanna have another misunderstanding?” He questioned, lifting the card, twirling it between his fingers, “I’d love to have another one of these.”

He was pretty sure the guy smiled, based on how his eyes crinkled. Middle guy nearly choked in laughter. 

“I like you, kid,” he laughed, “Well, we got things to do. Try to stay out of trouble.”

He ruffled Michael’s hair and started towards the entrance of the alley. The remaining two turned towards each other and played Rock Paper Scissors. Masked guy lost.

“Ha! Too easy to read, Vagabond!” The woman laughed.

She ruffled Michael’s hair as she passed. The masked one, Vagabond apparently, sighed and moved to the unconscious body. He hoisted him up over his shoulder and started for the alleyway. He paused in front of Michael and met his eyes. 

“You gonna ruffle my hair too, handsome?” He quipped.

Vagabond’s eyes crinkled again. He reached out with one gloved hand and took hold of Michael’s chin.

“I’m disappointed,” Michael answered his silence, “I bet you got a massive cock.”

A short, breathy laugh came from the man. Michael grinned. Vagabond swiped his thumb across his lips before he let go and followed his friends. Michael watched him leave, only vaguely checking out the guy’s ass. Once he was gone, Michael looked back at the card and flipped it through his fingers again.

“Is a booty call reason enough?” He wondered aloud.

It felt so wrong, but so fucking good to jerk off in the same place he’d been raped not five minutes ago. His jizz coated the wall near where his head had bumped it and he panted harshly. _What a fucking day._


	2. Chapter 2

“Here’s the deal, buddy,” Michael began, “You can cough it up or you can make this more fun for me.”

He hoisted the sledgehammer up onto his shoulder and put his other hand on his hip. He raised his eyebrows at the guy.

“Better decide quick,” Michael warned, “I’m not a very patient man.”

“I-it’s in a l-locker,” the guy sputtered quickly, “Th-the key’s on my r-ring.”

Michael slammed the hammer onto the chair. The man yelped as it landed between his thighs. 

“You put it in a fucking bus locker?!” Michael snarled, “Are you a goddamn moron?!”

“I-I didn’t h-have time!” The guy squeaked.

Michael lifted the hammer back up.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t crush your nuts, you sloppy amateur,” He growled.

“I-I got m-more!” He stammered, “Th-there was m-more!”

Michael squinted at him and leaned away, thinking. _More?_

“Money?” He pressed.

“N-no, g-gold,” the man quickly assured him, “An-and jewels.”

Michael let the hammer rest on his shoulder and rubbed his free hand over his chin. On principle he should destroy the man’s testicles, but if the pay day was bigger, maybe he could forgive him. It was odd though. Graveman wasn’t supposed to have anything but the jewelry in his box.

“Fine,” he muttered, “Your nuts are safe. For now. But you’re not getting any more jobs from me.”

He looked relieved and Michael considered slamming his nuts anyway. He pressed his foot where the hammer had smashed against the chair and leaned in.

“Get better at your fucking job,” he sneered, “Then maybe we’ll talk again. Amateur.”

He pushed off the chair. He took the locker key and dropped the handcuff key between the guy’s thighs. Then he smashed the hammer against the wall on the way out just for fun. The tiny whimper he heard was pretty satisfying.

~

Michael crawled his way through the small window, silently berating the stupid cunt that got him into this mess. All because he got spooked by his own shadow and panicked. He dropped into the basement and quickly made his way to the security office. All he had to do was take out the cameras, then get to the locker. Easy, but tedious. _Annoying._

He drew his gun and crept up to the door. No one rushed out, so either they weren’t looking at the basement feed or the station was unmanned. The latter seemed very unlikely. He yanked open the door, eyes and gun sweeping. They landed on a security guard, face down on the floor. No blood, so maybe alive. Michael rushed over to him and stowed his gun to check his pulse. _Steady._ He was just knocked out. Next his eyes darted to feeds. Everything was off.

“Shit!” He hissed.

He leapt to his feet and sprinted for the stairs up, taking them two at a time. He slid around the corner, cursing his choice in footwear. A tall figure was at the locker in question, hunched over the lock. Michaellet out a frustrated noise and dive tackled them, taking them by surprise. His fist landed on their face, the person grunting as it hit. That wasn’t just a face though: it was a mask. He hissed at the split on his knuckles. The guy shoved at him in his moment of hesitation, but Michael squeezed his thighs tightly, hanging onto the guy even as his chest was pushed away. The guy flipped, trying to get Michael off his hip. Michael winced as the guy trapped one leg beneath him. 

“Fuck you, I can’t be bucked that easily!” He hissed, scrambling to get a hold on the man’s arm.

The man hesitated and Michael twisted, shoving his shin into his throat. The man’s hands went up naturally to claw away his leg, but Michael seized the one between his legs and yanked it backwards, twisting it painfully. The guy growled out a pained noise. Michael moved back to pin his hips with a shoulder, but he realized too late the guy’s legs were fucking long as hell. He lifted them, wrapped around Michael’s neck and pulled him down. 

They halted a moment, straining against each other. Each pushed and pulled, trying to get free without releasing the other. Michael’s body shook with the effort of keeping enough pressure on the man’s throat while not choking himself on the hold on his neck. Goddamn he was hard as hell, but at least he wasn’t the only one with an adrenaline boner. He was getting woozy from lack of oxygen, he needed to figure what the fuck to do. The other guy had the high ground, Michael would lose for sure if he stayed in this position. 

“Who hired you?!” The man growled, his voice vibrating through Michael’s body.

“N-no one!” Michael spat back, “Th-this was my f-fuckin job, assbag! Get your own!”

_“You_ stole from _me,_ moron,” the guy snarled.

Michael’s head was spinning.

“Wh-What?” He muttered breathlessly, “I stole fr-from Gra-graveman.”

There was a pause. The guy’s legs relaxed slightly.

“We were collateral,” the guy muttered, “Your guy said he got extra, didn’t he?”

Michael squinted in the darkness. 

“How’d you know that?” He croaked, “Wait, the extra shit was _yours?_ That fucking sloppy bitch! I’m gonna-“

He was cut off by himself coughing. The guy let go and Michael scrambled away from him, gasping and coughing for air.

“You give it back, no hard feelings,” the guy grunted, as he got to his feet.

“Perfect,” Michael rasped.

He hauled himself up, annoyed that the guy seemed totally fine, barely breathing hard. He wished he could see any details of the guy. He’d like to catalogue who not to fuck with again. He opened the locker, but before he could rifle through the contents, the man grabbed his shoulder and pushed to shove him aside. Michael stumbled a bit in surprise, but immediately twisted his arm to knock the guy’s arm away. He froze as a knife touched his throat. He looked up at the man’s face. Now there was just enough light on it for him to see one startling blue eye and half of a skull mask.

“Don’t push your luck, _boy,”_ he growled.

Michael’s boner came back in full force.

“If I promise to blow you, will you let me go?” He quipped.

He grinned widely. The one visible eye flicked downwards briefly, before returning his piercing gaze to Michael’s eyes. 

“Yes.”

“Then let go and take your dick out,” Michael answered.

The man’s arms retracted, the knife disappearing and his hands went for his belt. As Michael started to lower himself, the sound of sirens froze them both. 

“You think you can shoot off before they do?” Michael asked.

Vagabond hesitated as though he really considered it. He turned and pulled free the duffle from the locker. He shoved it at Michael.

“I drive, you shoot.”

He turned and started for a side exit. Michael slung the bag over his shoulder and jogged after him. When he hopped on the bike, Michael didn’t hesitate to follow. He pulled free his weapon and gripped Vagabond’s shoulder as they flew away. He turned, keeping an eye behind them as Vagabond weaved through streets. He seemed to know them pretty well.

With the quiet moment, Michael realized suddenly that he was basically wrapped around the guy he’d accidentally stolen from. He was still aching from their fight and his boner hadn’t wavered. He shifted his hips uncomfortably. He hoped this wouldn’t be a long chase. He wanted to get off already. 

He was a bit surprised that Vagabond even remembered him. It’d been months since the alleyway. Surely he met plenty of whores, why remember Michael? He wasn’t sure it was a good thing that he was noteworthy enough to be remembered. Since the alleyway, he’d heard some scary stories. Vagabond was a feared name and Michael would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of him. But he’d also be lying if he said he hadn’t jerked off thinking about him. Michael was fucked up, he knew this. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as the bike pulled to a stop. They’d pulled into an alleyway, but Vagabond hadn’t turned off the bike. 

“Off.”

Michael pulled off the bike, wincing a bit. He was sore all over. He needed to sleep.

“Bag.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, but opened the bag. He pulled out the the smaller bag that laid inside and closed it back up. He held it out, almost reluctant. He was getting ditched. What a let down. Vagabond pulled it over his head and straightened out. Michael leaned in before he could take off.

“No goodbye kiss, Vagabond?” He taunted.

The man’s icy eyes looked at his lips before they looked into his eyes.

“Do you deserve a reward, _boy?”_ Vagabond growled.

Michael was fucking _ready._ He was pretty sure he’d have jizzed right there if it were physically possible.

“I dunno,” he whispered, leaning closer, “I’ll take whatever you give me, _sir.”_

He was fairly sure he saw a shiver go through Vagabond, but the man was zooming away in a rush of air before he could be certain. He watched as the bike disappeared around a corner, then waited thirty seconds before hastily yanking his jeans open to jerk off. In an alley. _Again._ He wanted to be mad, but he really couldn’t make himself.


	3. Chapter 3

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” Michael growled through his teeth.

“Shut it, bitch.”

Anger boiled through his guts. He squeezed his ass around the guy, causing a hiss. Before the guy could say he was squeezing too hard, Michael’s legs spread and lifted. He pushed his thighs together into the guy’s hips and slammed his heels into his upper back. The guy tipped forward with a grunt, his face going right into Michael’s cuffed hands. He shoved his thumbs into his eyes and the man shrieked in pain. Michael let him reel back, twisting to his side and slamming a foot into his chest. He stumbled and fell, giving Michael time to awkwardly haul himself off the table and curb stomp his face repeatedly. 

“Asshole,” he muttered, dropping to fetch the handcuff keys.

Once free, he found his pants and hauled them up, wincing as he did. He was going to absolutely destroy this guy. He lifted him and threw him over the table. He cuffed his hands and flicked open his switchblade.

“Karma’s a bitch, Leo.”

An hour later, he wiped his knife on the least bloody bit of the guy’s clothing and tucked it away. He looked at his watch, swiping blood off it to check the time.

“I’m fucking late,” he grumbled. 

He sighed. Hopefully Vic wouldn’t care he was late and covered in blood and bruises. He jogged to his car to speed off to the meeting place, trying to limit just how late he was. 

“You’re late!” Vic snapped at him before his car was even off.

“Sorry, got held up,” Michael answered.

He grabbed the bag from the floor of the passenger seat and jumped out.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Vic quipped, eyebrows rising.

As he walked to Vic’s trunk he paused. Leaning casually against the bumper was Vagabond. He was twirling a knife in his hands, staring through the holes of his mask directly at Michael. 

“Vic, the fuck?” He demanded, “You said this was just us. The fuck is Leatherface doing here?”

Vic looked at him sharply.

“That’s _Vagabond,_ Mogar,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I know who he is, fuckhead,” Michael growled, “I asked what the fuck he’s doing here.”

“He’s the client, jackass,” Vic snapped back, “And he could kill you, so why don’t you shut your Liberty trap and get over here.”

Michael scowled, but walked over. 

“I’m not Liberty, assfuck,” he grunted.

He dropped the bag in the trunk and went to grab the bag waiting for him. A strong hand shot out and stopped him. Vagabond stood and turned towards him. Michael twisted his wrist to free himself from his grasp.

“Yo, what’s your fucking damage, Rorschach?” He grunted.

Vic flinched behind him, but Vagabond just leaned down and opened the bag Michael brought. Michael rolled his eyes. Check the fucking product. Who the hell did Vagabond think Michael was, an amateur?! Satisfied, apparently, Vagabond lifted the other bag and handed it to Michael. Michael took it with a sneer and turned to walk away. Again, a strong hand stopped him, this time on his bicep. 

“You, leave,” Vagabond said to Vic.

Vic jumped to do so, closing the trunk and scurrying to get into the driver seat. As he got the fuck out of there, Michael rolled his eyes again and yanked his arm, trying to pull it free of Vagabond’s hand. This time he didn’t let go. Michael dropped the bag to shove at the guy.

“Fuck off, dude!” He snarled, “I’m not in the mood to play fucking games with you!”

He earned a hard backhand for that one that he didn’t bother dodging. No doubt he’d just fucked up by pissing off LS’ boogeyman, but he could still feel that jerkwad in him. _Urgh_. He wanted to be done with this lame ass day. Vagabond gripped his jaw tightly in one hand, while the other remained firm on his bicep. Michael shoved at his arms, but the man was immovable. He couldn’t brush him off. He’d either have to take the beating or try to full on fight the guy, but he didn’t have the best track record with that. He grabbed the guy’s forearms and glared, unsure the best course of action. Vagabond stared down at him with blue eyes, bright with anger.

“Do you know who I am, little boy?” He questioned.

“Not little,” Michael growled back.

The hand on his face squeezed harder.

“Really? You look pretty small to me,” he countered, leaning over him.

Michael had to bend a bit as he leaned and he really wanted to knee him in the nuts.

“Fucking let go of me!” He snapped.

“No.”

Vagabond pushed him, grip still tight. He backed Michael into the hood of his own car and slammed him down on it. Michael’s eyes watered and his head spun a bit. He needed to decide if he wanted to die today or not.

“Do you know who I am, little boy?” Vagabond repeated tightly.

“Yes, obviously!” Michael grunted.

“What part of my history suggests you’re allowed to talk back to me?” Vagabond growled.

He was inches from Michael’s face, Michael could hear his breathing. He was mad, like really fucking mad. Michael had fucked himself royally. And then he opened his mouth.

“The part where you wanted your dick in my mouth,” he sneered.

Vagabond’s eyes flashed and Michael knew he’d backed himself into a corner. He had to fight now. He was going to die. He shoved one hand up, knocking Vagabond’s jaw up and sent a knee to his side. Vagabond grunted, from one or the other and loosened his hold. Michael shoved his arms to the sides, knocking Vagabond’s hands off him. As he pulled his legs back to kick him away, Vagabond shoved them aside, twisting Michael sideways. He pinned his knee down as Michael swung at his head. He blocked the punch, grabbing Michael’s wrist and pinning it down to the car. Michael grunted, wiggling in the awkward pin, trying to get his body out of the twist. He looked at Vagabond to deliver a harsh comment, but he noticed those blue eyes were focused on his ass. He jolted. 

“Why is your ass bloody?” Vagabond questioned casually.

“Why the fuck do you think, dumbass?” Michael spat, face burning.

“Was it consensual?” 

Michael nearly flinched at the question. Vagabond didn’t look up.

“No,” he muttered quietly.

Vagabond didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared and Michael was afraid to speak. Finally he let go and pushed away. Michael immediately flipped to his back and lifted up, expecting a knife or a gun. Instead, Vagabond just walked a short distance, scooped up the bag and got on his bike. Michael watched with wide eyes as the man silently left. _He...let me go?_ Michael waited until he couldn’t see him any more before burying his head in his hands. _He...didn’t want sloppy seconds._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mention of PTSD flashbacks.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

Michael rolled his eyes and turned.

“Really? That’s the best line you got?” He grumbled.

_Three._ He could handle three easily. He set his jaw and planted his feet as they came closer. The middle guy was obviously the boss, despite exuding literally zero charisma. Who the fuck he was though, Michael had no idea. He looked vaguely familiar, but when you’ve fucked and slashed your way through most of LS, everyone looks familiar.

“That pretty mouth of yours is getting you in more trouble.”

Michael suppressed a jump of surprise at the new voice. He glanced behind him. _Great, three more. Six._ He could take six. Especially if he used more fuck than slash. He turned to look at him better.

“You wanna use my mouth for something other than trouble?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, “I happen to know a few more enjoyable activities I can perform orally.”

The guy laughed and Michael’s skin crawled. He’d heard it before. The laugh was familiar. His mouth felt heavy. He’d blown this guy before.

“Or don’t you remember?” He added, “I’m pretty sure I showed you a good time.”

“I’m flattered _you_ remember,” the man answered, “I would’ve thought we’d all have blurred together at this point.”

“Do you remember me as well, Mogar?” The first man piped up, “Or do you only recall blowjobs?”

Michael turned back to look at him. This was not good. They were shish-kabobbing him, but neither actually looked like they planned to whip their dick out. 

“Maybe if you fuck me again, it’ll jog my memory,” he suggested.

“So you can rob us again?” The second one scoffed, “I think not.”

_ Shit. More slashing then.  _

“Well, maybe after we knock you out,” the first amended, grinning, “What do you say? Would you like us to fuck you awake or asleep, bitch?”

Michael whipped out a grenade, yanking the pin. His chest burned with rage. 

“I’m no bitch,” He growled, “So how about we do neither? I’d rather just release this grenade and kill us all.”

The two hesitated on either side of him. He was glad he spent so much time building up a reputation as a fucking psycho or else this bluff would never work.

“Now, how about you all just line up right along this wall?” He suggested, “Unless you’d like to be splattered over it?”

He pulled his gun out and pointed it at the first.

“And no running, darling.”

The six all hesitated and Michael fired. One of the guards dropped. The five remaining lined up quickly, eager to keep their brains in skulls.  He noticed as they lined up that the first had a hand tattoo. One Michael had seen when it’d covered his mouth. His body jolted as he recalled, brain going fuzzy as it started flashing back. _This fucking asshole._ He shot him in the knee. He fell to the ground shouting curses. The remaining of his guard flinched, looking terrified. 

He shot the remaining guards, killing them. He didn’t need them interfering. Now what exactly should he do with tweedle dee and dum? He heard the tiniest shift of gravel behind him. Someone was sneaking up on him. The twins had noticed too, shifting as though unsure if they wanted help from whoever was back there. _Hm._

He twisted, pulling his hand back and flung the grenade to the side before sprinting the other direction. The explosion off-balanced him and he stumbled, ducking his head to dodge debris. Before the explosion settled, he was tackled to the ground. Hitting the ground knocked out his breath. Cold metal circled his wrists and he huffed. 

“Goddamnit, you a fuckin cop?” He groused.

“No.”

Michael’s body jolted.

“Long time no see, Vagabond,” he muttered.

Vagabond pressed a boot to one thigh to keep him down. Michael turned his head to see Vagabond on his phone.

“Geoff, the mission has failed,” he stated clearly into the phone.

He looked at Michael and leaned more weight on the foot. Michael grunted, glaring daggers at him. 

“He’s been killed,” he continued, “No, not by me. By our old friend Mogar.”

His voice was dangerously cold and calm. Michael couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew the flashing rage he’d see if he could.

“Yes, I’m taking care of it now,” he assured, “Don’t worry, he won’t be causing a problem any more.”

Michael shuddered. Well then. He was about to be torture-murdered. Vagabond slipped his phone away and shifted into a crouch next to him, his boot moving to roll Michael’s hips slightly.

“Evening, Mogar.”

Michael wondered if the guy could see how bad he was sweating with how dark it was.

“If I promise to blow you, will you not kill me?” He asked hopefully.

Vagabond tilted his head.

“Yes.”

Michael’s heart was in his throat. 

“Then help me up and get your dick out.”

Vagabond paused another moment, just staring at him. 

“You are quite the annoying little shit,” he commented.

“I get that a lot,” Michael muttered.

Vagabond reached forward and groped his ass. Michael stiffened. He was running his fingers over the seam and Michael felt anger bubble up: this is not what he agreed to. Before he could voice that, he removed the hand and grabbed Michael’s face, turning it side to side. 

“What are y-“ Michael started, annoyed.

“Did they rape you?” Vagabond interrupted.

Michael winced and shrank from his piercing gaze. 

“Uh...yes, well, one...b-but not t-today,” he mumbled.

He tried to blink away the flashback resurfacing in his head.

“Good.”

Vagabond stood and gripped the back of his jacket, hauling him up to his knees. Michael trembled at how easy it was for the man to lift him.  He leaned down, the horrific smile of the mask pressing against Michael’s ear. His hand slid down to Michael’s neck. Holding, not squeezing, but definitely suggesting.

“Would you like to know what I want, Mogar?” He whispered.

Michael swallowed around the hand on his throat.

“Y-Yes.”

The hand tightened slightly.

“Y-Yes, sir,” he corrected quickly.

Vagabond hummed his approval.

“I want to fuck the attitude out of you, little boy.”

Michael’s mouth dropped open and an obscene moan fell out. 

“Is that what you want, Mogar?”

Michael woke up slightly from the nickname.

“Michael,” he grunted.

“Is that what you want,  _ Michael_ _?”_ Vagabond corrected.

“Yes, sir.”

“You want me to fuck you right here?” He continued, voice rough in Michael’s ear, “Put you on your hands and knees and fuck you raw while they scrape along the asphalt?”

Yes! He needed him to, craved it like air, and drowned in his desire. He needed him to fuck away the flashbacks. But...he had just blown up the alleyway. But also what if this was his only chance?! He kept ending up dragged away before the good part.

“Yes-“ Michael hesitated, “Um, yes, sir.”

“No lies, Michael,” Vagabond warned.

“I-I just...the explosion...”

Right as he voiced the opinion, sirens came close enough to hear.

“Ah, fuck, I forgot,” Vagabond muttered.

He got Michael to his feet and undid his cuffs. They were on his bike when cops rounded the corner. Michael went for his gun and flinched. He’d dropped it when Vagabond tackled him.  _Shit._ He patted at Vagabonds waist as he maneuvered away from the cops.  _ No guns? No guns. No guns?! _

“What the fuck?!” He hissed.

He patted up his sides.  _Bingo!_ Shoulder holster.  He pushed the leather jacket up and fumbled to get the gun out as a few shots missed them. Finally in hand, he twisted, pointing it at the cops chasing them. He gripped Vagabond’s shoulder to keep steady and fired at their tires. One car spun out, but Michael was then able to see just how many cops were on them.

“Uh, oops?” He mumbled.

Call. He needed to call someone. He patted his pockets for his phone. Where was his phone? Where the fuck was his phone?! More shots came at them and he fired a few back.  Shit. Okay. Vagabond’s phone. He had connections too. He’d just call Geoff. That was the one he talked to earlier. He fumbled, patting Vagabond’s pockets for his phone. He froze over the passcode.  Shit.  He leaned forward to get close to his ear.

“What is your passcode?!” He demanded.

“Uh...”

Michael scowled at him.

“R-Ryan,” he finally answered, “It’s Ryan.”

_A name, not a number? Weird._ More shots.  Shit. This was getting dicey.  He fired back wildly, squeezing his thighs around Vagabond to hold the phone and gun at the same time. He opened it and called the contact labeled Geoff. It answered on the second ring.

“I thought you were beating the kid?” He grumbled, “Please don’t tell me how beautiful he is.  _ Again.” _

Michael blushed crimson.

“Um, no,” he called back, “Th-this is the kid.”

More shots fired behind him.

“Goddamnit,” Geoff grunted, “Where are you?”

Michael looked around while firing blindly.

“Just passed Jefferson,” he answered, “Um, we’re on sixteenth.”

“Alright, we’re on it.”

He hung up before Michael could say anything else. He shoved Vagabond’s phone back in his pocket, ignoring the “He thinks I’m beautiful??” pulsing in his brain. He gripped his shoulder again, firing at more tires.  _He thinks I’m beautiful??_ Well, he mostly ignored it.

~

“Are you actually an idiot?!”

Michael flinched. The lady was yelling, but not at him, at Vagabond. She’d grabbed his jacket and despite being shorter, was definitely intimidating.  _Very scary._

“You almost got caught because of this!” She shouted, “Do you know what you are, Ryan?!”

Ryan.  Vagabond’s name was Ryan.  _ Who makes their name their fucking passcode?! Fucking idiot. _

“Uh, a pig?” He guessed.

“Damn straight!” She growled, “You ever try to fuck on job again, I’m going to brand you, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She let go and sighed.

“Thank god you’re okay,” she muttered, “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.”

She hugged him and he lifted his arms as though to hug her back, but never actually squeezed. Michael couldn’t help but notice how fucking awkward Vagabond was with people. He supposed this was “Ryan”. Or some gray in between.  _Ry-bond_.  He burst out laughing, his insane cackling drawing their attention. He grinned wildly at them.

“Ry-bond!” He giggled, “Ryan plus Vagabond!”

His giggles went on too long, head lulling to the side. He was feeling too fast, despite being cuffed to a chair. His head was sprinting away from him and he tipped it back to laugh at the ceiling. 

“Can I kill him?” Vagabond growled.

“No, Geoff wants to talk to him,” The woman answered, almost sounding disappointed. 

Michael flopped his head over to look at them again.

“Bet you can rough me up though,” He taunted, “I know you want your hands on me, _sir_ _.” _

Vagabond stepped forward with a growled out grunt of warning, but the woman threw out an arm to stop him. 

“No, just wait,” she muttered, “You can beat him afterwards.”

“It’s a date, handsome,” Michael teased, winking.

“I have to leave or I’ll break his face,” Vagabond snapped before storming from the room.

“What happened to fucking me bloody in an alleyway?” Michael joked, turning back to the ceiling, “And being “beautiful”?”

“He called you beautiful?” The woman asked, sounding surprised.

“According to Geoff,” he answered, shrugging with difficulty, “Asked him not to tell him I was beautiful again.”

She snorted.

“Sounds like Geoff,” she laughed, “Idiot. Bet he wasn’t even embarrassed.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” Michael agreed.

They fell silent and Michael closed his eyes. Maybe he could get in a nice nap before they murdered him. Though they’d only said “talk” and “beat” so far, so maybe he’d get out of it alive after all. He didn’t have high hopes though. He got about five minutes of shut-eye before he heard muffled shouting.

“Again?! Jack is fucking right! Fucking pig!”

Geoff was there.

“Stop! He-Geoff, stop!”

Vagabond actually sounded a bit afraid.

“No! You’re an animal, Haywood!”

There was the sound of something smashing.

“Baseball bat,” Michael recognized vaguely.

“Yeah, he’s got a basically cement baseball bat,” she confirmed, “He’s not even sure where he got it.”

“Probably a-“

“Geoff, Geoff! Stop!” Vagabond’s frantic tone interrupted.

“Decoration,” Michael finished, “That turned into a home defense weapon.”

The door opened and Michael cracked one eye open to watch Geoff drag Vagabond into the room. Vagabond was not struggling, but his eyes were wide open behind his mask, the closest Michael saw to fear from the man. Geoff let go of him and moved closer to Michael with a bit of a smile. Friendlier than Michael had expected. Though he still had the concrete bat in hand.

“Mogar, good to see you again,” he greeted cheerfully.

Michael sat up a bit and gave him a blank look.

“Not sure I feel the same,” he replied dryly.

“Fair enough,” Geoff laughed.

He leaned a bit on the bat like a cane and looked over Michael as though inspecting him.

“If I promise to blow you, will you let me go?” Michael muttered tiredly.

“Y-“

The bat pointed at Vagabond before he could finish the word.

“Ah! Not a word, Haywood,” Geoff growled, not looking away from Michael.

He reached forward to touch his face and Michael stiffened almost imperceptibly. But apparently Geoff could perceive it as he pulled his hand back and shifted to look at Michael’s cheek without moving his face. Michael felt a bubble of gratefulness in his chest that he wanted to pop before it got bigger.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he muttered.

Geoff straightened back up, letting the bat drop and held it like a cane in front of him again. 

“Alright, kid,” he said, cool and calm, “Tell me what happened in the alley.”

“Uh, I got shish-kabobbed by rapists,” Michael answered, “But not like actual shish-kabob. They just came at me from two sides.”

“Flanking,” the woman spoke up, “They flanked you.”

“Right, flanked,” Michael amended, “So I pulled a grenade and then a gun. They wouldn’t move so I shot a guard. Then I...”

He hesitated, eyes flicking to Geoff’s own hand tattoos.

“Um, remembered something,” he recounted, “So I... shot one of them... in the kneecap.”

He was drifting a bit, eyes laser-locked on Geoff’s hands. He frowned.

“Have you...?” He muttered, “Have we fucked?”

Michael ignored the sounds of them talking or whatever they were doing as he squinted at the tattoos. They looked familiar. He leaned forward. The hands moved and one started snapping in his face. He flinched backwards and looked up.

“We haven’t fucked,” Geoff assured him, “You were saying?”

Michael blinked a bit and shook his head.

“Right, then I killed the other guards,” he continued, “And I heard someone sneaking up on me, so-“

“Wait, wait,” Geoff interrupted, “You heard him coming?”

Michael glanced at the others, they provided no reactions for him, so he looked back to Geoff.

“Uh, yeah?” He answered, a bit hesitant, “There was a shift in gravel on asphalt and I saw the two fuckbags reacting, so I knew someone was there.”

“Sorry, wait again,” Geoff cut off before he could continue, “You could see their reactions? The alley was very dark.”

“Well, they shifted a bit?” Michael guessed, shrugging, “It just felt like they noticed something, so I knew the feeling I got was real. I mean, I struggle to see faces from a distance, so I watch body language.”

This seemed to satisfy Geoff as he waved him on.

“So I tossed the grenade and dipped,” Michael continued, “Then Skeletor tackled me when I stumbled and cuffed me. He called you then I offered to blow him.”

Geoff sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“He was gonna put me on all fours when the cops showed,” he finished, “Or at least he said he was going to.”

“For fucks sake, Ry,” Geoff muttered, “Had the dust even settled?”

He made a cut off motion with his hand as both men opened their mouths to answer.

“Don’t-! Answer that,” he grunted, “So then, Mogar, you were acting in self-defense?”

“Well, they said they were going to knock me out and rape me,” Michael replied, “But-“

“What?!” Vagabond growled, stepping forward.

Michael jumped in surprise at the outburst.

“Well, they made a joke about it,” he mumbled, “But they didn’t say they were going to kill me, necessarily.”

Geoff looked ashen-faced. Michael’s eyes dropped to his hands again. Those tattoos looked really familiar. They reached up his sleeves and Michael got the feeling that if he saw the sleeves he’d recognize where he’d seen them. 

“Alright,” Geoff finally spoke, drawing Michael’s eyes up again, “Obviously this wasn’t your fault. Well, Ry was right about one thing, I suppose.”

“Two things,” the woman cut in, “Mogar here isn’t working for anyone and he’s a magnet for trouble.”

Michael grinned widely.

“That’s part of my charm,” he laughed, “I do good at getting out of it too. Usually with my mouth.”

He looked pointedly at Geoff’s crotch. Geoff laughed in response, though Vagabond made an annoyed sound. Michael glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry,” he comforted, “I’ll stilltake what you give me,  _sir.”_

He grinned smugly as Vagabond stepped forward. The woman put an arm out again. Vagabond’s fists were clenched tightly. Though Michael didn’t feel all that afraid as he laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

“I swear to fucking Christ, you absolute shitfuck!” Michael yelled.

He threw a hook the guy wasn’t expecting and knocked loose at least one tooth. The guy stumbled, spitting blood.

“I know, I’m sorry, man,” the guy grunted. 

Michael’s blood was boiling.

“Oh, you’re sorry,” he called sarcastically, gesturing wildly, “Oh good, everyone! He’s fucking sorry! Thank Christ you’re so fucking sorry, you dickmunch!”

The hostages made a few whimpering noises and Michael rolled his eyes. What the fuck was he meant to do?! No fucking way were they gonna make it out now. He paced back and forth.

Okay. They were trapped. Step 1 would be to figure if they could untrap themselves. 

“Pigeon, see what you can do,” he called mid stride, “Check for any overrides.”

Pigeon flittered off.

Step 2 would be to see that they bought themselves time to figure a way out. 

“Sparrow, on phones,” he instructed, “When negotiators call, I want you stalling any way you can.”

Sparrow headed for the offices.

Step 3 check if there are any back doors or hidden exits.

“Okay, Lark, we can salvage this,” he assured the man with the bloody mouth, “I need you to search for any hidden or emergency exits. Keep eyes out for weak points in case they decide to try and breach.”

Lark took off, eager to make up for his mistake. Michael sighed and took a few deep breaths. Okay. Step 4 interrogate. He turned to the hostages.

“Okay folks, I need a bit of cooperation now,” he explained, trying his best to remain collected, “Does anyone here happen to know why there’s a secret alarm that locks down the building?”

He scanned the faces as they looked nervously between each other. A woman, closer to the back of the crowd, raised her hand cautiously.

“I do,” she answered, “I can tell you, but it would have to be private.”

The others looked at her in surprise and confusion.  _Private. That means illegal. Shit._

“Alright, come with me,” he waved her over.

She stood and lead him to one of the offices. He stood in front of the door and crossed his arms, tilting his head expectantly.

“Fake AH controls this bank,” she explained, “Every shift has an operative that knows. We take the roles of management to ensure we know what’s going on in here.”

Michael sighed and put his hands together in a prayer pose. Fake AH.  _Again._

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” he muttered.

“Fake AH can be reasonable,” she assured him, “I’m sure if-“

“I know,” he interrupted, “I’ve run into them before. Few times now, actually. Do you know their response time?”

She checked her watch and winced.

“Not good, huh?” He guessed, “Alright. You’re free to return to the others.”

He stepped aside to let her out. When she left, he rubbed his tired eyes. Technically they hadn’t stolen anything. He moved over to the clouded window and dropped his sweaty forehead on it with a groan. Vagabond was not happy last time they talked and no doubt it’d be him coming to take them out. 

_Okay, round up the others, sit down in the lobby, hands up and surrender._ He reared back and bumped his head against the glass again and again and again.  _Why does this keep happening-_

Movement. He kept thumping. Vagabond was sneaking up on him again.  Shit. Shit. Shit. Would he take him out without bothering to ask for an explanation? Michael ducked down and to the right as a hand shot out to grab him. He stumbled, knocking against the too close wall. He threw his hands up in surrender as he backed away from Vagabond’s advancing. 

“H-hey, uh, if I promise to suck your dick will you not kill me?” He offered nervously.

Vagabond halted. Michael remembered he had his own face covered and reached up to yank down the fabric. Vagabond was squinting at him.

“L-Listen man,” he hurried to explain, “This probably looks really fucking bad. Like strike three, right? But I honestly had no fucking clue. Fucking Lark is-“

“Yes.”

Vagabond cut him off and started advancing again. Michael dropped down almost instinctively. Vagabond opened his belt and jeans in record time, but stopped suddenly and pulled his gun. Lark came through the door only to have a gun pointed directly at his face. He looked between the gun, the Vagabond’s open jeans, and Michael. He put his hands up.

“Uh, I...don’t think...Mogar...” he mumbled tightly, “I don’t think your usual tactics work here.”

“Well, gotta try something,” Michael countered with a shrug.

Vagabond tucked his gun away and calmly closed his pants. 

“Follow.”

He left the room. Michael and Lark had no real choice but to do as ordered. He lead him through the way he came in, where the others were already waiting. He gestured towards the getaway car.

“Go.”

The lot started to get into the car, but Vagabond grabbed the back of Michael’s jacket.

“Not you.”

_ Oh boy.  _

“It’s fine, guys,” he told the others, “I’m the boss. Someone’s gotta pay.”

They hesitated a moment, but their fear overrode any loyalty they felt towards Michael.  Bastards. Halfway smart bastards, but still bastards. His heart was in his throat as he watched them disappear. He really wasn’t sure if he was going to make it out of this one. His vision went sideways as Vagabond tossed him against the wall. It wasn’t that forceful, but enough to make him gasp. A knife appeared at his throat and he swallowed.

“You really work for no one?” Vagabond questioned, “These were all coincidence?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was it the same guy?” He pressed, “The same amateur?”

“No, sir.”

“So you just run with only morons?” He asked dryly.

Michael scowled at him.

“Not usually!” He snapped, “This rarely fucking happens! It’s not my fucking fault AH is balls deep in everything!”

Vagabond reared back and shoved him against the wall again, pinning him with a forearm to the throat. The tip of the knife pressed against the side of his neck. 

“You have no respect, little boy,” Vagabond growled, “Do I need to teach you manners?”

_Fuck yes!_ Michael’s dick screamed. But what came out was:

“Bite me, Terminator!”

His dick insisted that wasn’t even close as he slid left and shoved away Vagabond’s arm. Vagabond’s foot hooked his ankles and he fell palms out to catch himself. He immediately tried to crawl away, but Vagabond’s free hand grabbed his jacket. He slipped free of it and scrambled away, just barely getting to his feet as Vagabond hooked an arm around his middle. He threw his elbow back as he twisted to try and free himself before the other arm could come around and fully trap him. 

The elbow landed on Vagabond’s mask with a grunt from the owner and Michael managed to twist an inch away, but was yanked upwards, his feet leaving the ground. He yelped and immediately tried to slip through the arm holding him, his shirt dragging up as he did. Vagabond wrapped his other arm around him, grabbing the empty belt loop on his hip to stop him from slipping any further. 

“Fucking giant fuckhead!” Michael shouted.

He kicked against the guy’s shins and reached back to grab at his head to pull his hair. He managed toget his fingers on the mask instead and ripped it off as the guy shoved him against the wall. It knocked the wind out of him and he immediately fumbled to get his hands on the wall to push off from it. The guy pressed harder and Michael had to turn his head to avoid breaking his nose. His face scraped painfully against the brick and he tried to push off when pain suddenly bloomed from his neck. He saw stars as Vagabond bit down, his whole mouth clamping on. Michael’s body arched and he moaned.

Ryan’s hands were suddenly all over him, running down his torso, groping his erection, and pinching his nipples. Michael’s ass rocked back against him, now feeling Ryan’s own hard on pressed to him. He was biting and sucking all along Michael’s neck as he dry humped his ass. Michael’s hands scrambled to open his pants and Ryan helped him shove them down, backing away just enough so that Michael could get his feet back on the ground. He had lube in his hand before Michael could even think of suggesting it and pressed his lubed, gloved fingers in him while his mouth stayed buried in Michael’s shoulder. It was quiet and Michael suddenly felt cold, shivering and sagging in on himself.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan demanded, halting all movements.

“T-talk to m-me, pl-please,” Michael whimpered, his legs starting to tremble.

Ryan shifted him so his forehead rested against the wall. He pressed his head to Michael’s lips on his ear.

“Don’t look back, okay?” He mumbled.

“O-okay.”

Ryan leaned closer to him, pulling down his shirt and running a hand over his bare hips.

“I’ve got you, Michael,” he whispered, between gentle kisses, “I’m going to start moving again, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Good boy.”

Michael bit back a moan as Ryan’s fingers started moving again.

“You’re such a good boy,” he cooed in Michael’s ear, “You’re doing so well. You took two so easily, baby. You’re being so good for me. Do you want me to touch you?”

“Y-Yes, please,” Michael squeaked.

Ryan reached back to take the leather glove off his other hand before reaching around to take ahold of Michael’s dick. Michael puffed out a sigh of relief and his legs relaxed.

“Good boy,” Ryan praised, “Stay nice and relaxed for me, baby. You’re doing so well. Just breathe. That’s it, nice deep breaths. Are you ready for more?”

“Yes!” Michael cried.

Ryan chuckled, pressing sweet kisses against his ear as he added a third finger. Michael’s back dipped and he moaned.

“That feel good?” Ryan groaned in his ear, voice rough, “You like how full that feels?”

“Y-Yes!”

“You like being filled up?” He grunted, “You want me to fill you up, baby? You want my cock in you?”

“Yes!” Michael moaned, shoving back against him.

“Fucking  beg for it,” Ryan growled, fingers spreading.

“Please! R-Ryan, please!” Michael babbled, “Please fill me up with your cock please I need it inside me please fuck me please Ryan I need your cock inside me I need it to fill me up please please please!”

“F-fuck!” Ryan grunted, his voice broken and needy, “Fuck! I’m gonna fill you up so good, y-you won’t ever want anyone el-else again. You-you’ll only be mine forever, baby.”

Michael moaned breathlessly as Ryan’s hand left his cock to take his own out. He whined as Ryan pulled his fingers free and lubed his cock up. His hips pushed back impatiently as Ryan shifted and lined up. His knees dipped slightly as Ryan entered.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, panting in his ear.

Michael rocked backwards in answer and they pushed together until they shook with the effort. 

“P-push hard-harder!” Michael grunted.

Ryan chuckled in his ear and looped his arm around his waist to push as tightly to him as he could. Michael whined, trying to push back more.

“No more, baby,” he laughed, “That’s it.”

“A-all the w-way?” Michael asked tearfully.

“Yes, baby, all the way,” Ryan assured him, “Am I not big enough?”

“N-no!” Michael cried, shaking his head, “Um, I-I mean yes? Um. I-it’s not-”

“It’s okay, baby,” Ryan interrupted, “I was just teasing you.”

Michael whined his annoyance with him and Ryan just laughed, pressing his forehead into Michael’s upper back. 

“Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Michael puffed out a sigh and reached between his legs, running his fingers over where his rim met Ryan’s cock. Ryan shuddered.

“Do you want me to move so you can feel it better?” He asked, breathless.

Michael shook his head frantically. Ryan pressed kisses over his back through his shirt as he waited. Michael took a few deep breaths and relaxed his body, letting his feet lay more flatly on the ground. He put both hands back on the wall.

“Okay, I-I’m ready,” he mumbled. 

Ryan shifted, bringing the hand around Michael’s waist up onto his shoulder, crossing his arm across his chest. He straightened out a bit and took Michael’s cock in his lubed and gloved hand. He pulled back slowly and rocked forward steadily, testing if Michael was too tense.

“Still good?” He asked.

“Yes, pl-please fas-faster now.”

Ryan happily did so, thrusting Michael into his hand at a steadily increasing pace. Michael writhed, panting against the brick in front of him. Ryan pressed light kisses over his ear and neck, occasionally whispering encouragement. Michael trembled, his own body rocking back to meet Ryan’s.

“H-harder!” He cried, “R-Ryan! H-harder! Please!”

Ryan put more force behind his movements, growling curses in Michael’s ear. His hand pushed down on Michael’s shoulder to move him back after his hips thrusted him forward. Michael’s body went basically limp as Ryan shoved him back and forth. His mouth hung open letting out moans and whimpers that got higher pitched the closer he got to his orgasm. 

“M-Michael! F-fuck, Michael, I’m g-gonna cum,” Ryan moaned in his ear, “C-can I-?”

“Yes!” Michael shouted, interrupting, “Please! Please cum inside me! F-fuck, Ry!”

Michael couldn’t tell who came first, his brain was fuzzy at that point. His knees gave out and Ryan cursed as he scrambled to catch him. He hung limply a moment, hissing as Ryan did his best to clean him up one handed, then pull his pants up. 

He was pretty sure he fell asleep as the next thing he remembered was laying in Ryan’s lap, covered with his own jacket. Ryan had his ass between his legs, one leg pulled up to help keep him steady. One arm was around his shoulders and the other across his lap. Michael felt very small, tucked up against him like that. He looked up at the man, surprised to see his eyes closed and head leaning back. He’d put the mask back on, but that wasn’t a surprise to Michael. Though it was still disappointing. He was awake though, based on his breathing.

“H-hey,” Michael mumbled.

“Hey.”

He didn’t look down or open his eyes.

“Um, you’re warm,” Michael commented, completely out of nowhere.

“So are you.”

He still made no move to look at Michael.

“Can you take me home now?” Michael asked quietly.

He finally opened his eyes and looked down.

“Can you stand?”

Michael nodded and shifted away from Ryan’s warmth. He almost immediately regretted it, but pushed his thoughts away as he wobbled to his feet. He leaned a hand against the wall for support and stretched out his stiff legs. His ass felt surprisingly fine. He would’ve thought for sure it’d be sore, but it just felt a bit loose. Maybe the tiniest bit of a burn, but it was very faint. That was a weird feeling. He wrinkled his nose as he shifted uncomfortably.  Weird. He was usually so sore he didn’t feel loose. 

“Sorry, did I not get all the jizz?” Ryan asked, as he stood.

“I think you got it all,” Michael answered, “I just...feel weird.”

Ryan turned to face him fully.

“Weird bad?” He prompted.

“No...just...weird,” he muttered.

“You’re alright though?” He pressed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied distractedly, “I’m just...I just wanna go home.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh.”

Before Michael could ponder what that reaction was, Ryan had moved to his bike. He mounted and started up.

“When you’re ready,” he called, not looking over his shoulder.

Michael wobbled, his knees feeling like jello, but made it to the bike and got on. He shifted uncomfortably and held onto Ryan’s waist as he took off. He buried his face in the man’s jacket. He smelled like leather, gunpowder, smoke, and Michael’s cologne.


	6. Chapter 6

Michael dropped onto a barstool with a sigh. With the bank heist fail, he needed to move on to a new job much quicker than usual. Not because he was broke, but because he was absolutely in the worst mood. The alleyway incident had unnerved him, set him on edge. It’d been so weirdly gentle at certain points that it made Michael shiver. Not to mention his whole body, including his dick, ached from being thrown around. And half his face was smeared over a brick wall. 

Michael didn’t know how to feel about it, so he went straight to his default: anger. Everything annoyed him and he couldn’t get those periwinkle eyes out of his head. So he was going to try drinking them away.

As Grey came over with his usual, someone’s hand landed hard on his shoulder, where all Ry- _Vagabond’s_ “love bites” were. He winced. Should’ve just stayed home.

“Mogar!” Lark shouted, “You look like shit, man.”

Michael glared at him and he held up the hand he’d put on him in surrender.

“I’m sorry, dude,” he apologized, “I’m just happy to see you’re alright.”

Grey slid his beer bottle towards him and Michael took a good swig.

“Grey, Mogar’s are on me tonight,” he instructed, “This man is an absolute legend.”

She raised an eyebrow, but shrugged.

“Least you could do, ya fuckin bastard,” Michael muttered, “Your fault my face got skinned off onto a wall.”

Lark winced sympathetically, eyes running over the scrapes on his face. 

“Mogar, I fuckin owe you,” he admitted, “You really took one for the team.”

Michael snorted. _I definitely took one..._ Grey moved on and Lark leaned a bit closer. Michael wanted to tell him to back the fuck off.

“He wasn’t too mad bout the blowin thing, was he?” He muttered quietly, “Honestly, soon as we left I thought, damn, he might go extra hard on him. But we’re fuckin cowards, sorry bout that.”

Michael sighed and shrugged.

“Eh, he coulda killed us all,” he dismissed, “No reason to get us all dragged down. And he’d pretty much said he was just gonna beat the shit out of me, so I figured I’d probably not die.”

“Still, man,” Lark insisted, “You took a beatin, so we didn’t have to. And it was my fuckin mistake, so you need somethin you just say it, man.”

He tipped his drink at Michael who clinked his against it.

“Actually, I need a job,” he said, thoughtfully, “You got anything?”

“I don’t,” Lark answered, “But I heard someone’s lookin for a boomer. Ah, Haus I think? Over in the corner.”

He turned and nodded at one of the darker corners of the bar. Michael could see a scruffy looking man slouched forward in a dark hoodie. He kinda looked homeless, but would be the cleanest hobo Michael had ever seen. And Michael had seen a lot of homeless folks.

“Haus?” He muttered, “They, uh, on good terms with Fake AH right now?”

“Ah, I think they’re ignorin each other right now,” Lark answered, unsure, “You probably wanna stay out of AH sight, huh?”

Michael lifted his beer only to find it empty. Was it sweat or condensation on the bottle? 

“Maybe it’s nothin AH related?” Lark suggested, “Don’t hurt to ask.”

“Yeah, haven’t had a boomer job in a while,” he admitted, “I would love to blow some shit up.”

“Best way to feel better,” Lark teased, “Go talk, see if y’all can work together.”

“Good suggestion, dude.”

Michael clapped his shoulder a bit harder than necessary with a manic grin and Lark just laughed. He made his way to the guy and slid into the booth across from him. He looked at Michael with about the same amount of interest as he had the empty booth. 

“Hey, heard you need a boomer,” Michael greeted.

“Mogar,” the man said in answer, “You’re hired.”

He pulled an envelope from his hoodie pocket and slid it across the table.

“Whoa, wait,” Michael replied, putting up a hand, “I just got one question. Uh. Is this a job against Fake AH?”

The man looked at him blankly for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Details are in the envelope.”

“Is this a “if I open it I have to take the job” situation?” He asked skeptically.

“No.”

Michael pulled the envelope closer to him and opened it. He scanned the details. _No mention of Fake AH. It should be clear._

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he confirmed, “So who are you to Haus anyway?”

“Not even I know,” he mumbled tiredly.

“Well, you must be someone important,” Michael laughed, “Since you’re hiring. And you know every criminal in LS apparently.”

“Only the good ones.”

He slid from the booth, not appearing to notice or care about the massive blush on Michael’s face. Michael rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. He felt stupid for being so easily flattered. He ran a finger over the edge of the envelope and grinned. He was so ready to fuck some shit up.

~

Michael sprinted to the door, trying to keep his head down as he ran. He just needed to get out the door, hop on the bike, and blow the shit.  _Easy_ _._ He flinched as a bullet got a bit too close to giving him an ear piercing.  _EASY_ _._ He ran shoulder-first into the door and stumbled around the corner. He hopped on the waiting bike and grabbed the rider’s shoulder.

“Fucking go!” He shouted, pressing the button.

They rocked a bit in the explosion, but zipped away quickly. Michael laughed, looking behind him at the explosion.

“Woo-hoo! Fuck yeah!” He whooped, “God that’s better than sex!”

He patted down his sides and legs, checking for injuries.  All good. He pulled his gun, checking for pursuit behind them. They looked clear, the rider was fucking good at getting away quick. He froze suddenly, spine stiffening.  _ Oh no.  _

The bike between his legs was familiar. The leather jacket under his hand was also familiar. The way the rider moved. The way he weaved through the streets. He slowly turned forward. Ponytail sticking out of a mask. 

“Shit,” he muttered.

Fuck . He hadn’t considered they’d be working together . He’d only been worried about working against each other. Three days after the weird alley fuck he was now sitting with the weird alley fuck between his legs. Well, that was...great. And he had a boner. 

“Don’t fuck me in an alley again,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Vagabond made no reaction and Michael really fucking hoped he hadn’t heard him. But he knew he had, because his luck was shit. At least he didn’t have to shoot during the ride. When they made it to the drop off, he hopped off like the bike was on fire. The problem was the fire was in his pants. 

“Michael?!”

Michael whipped around in surprise, his brain immediately dropping all thoughts of the Vagabond.

“Adam?!” 

They closed the ten foot distance in seconds. Michael grabbed him around the neck and Adam grabbed him around the middle and swung him around. He laughed as Adam let him down. He held onto Michael’s waist and Michael held his shoulders, bouncing a bit on his toes. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He laughed, giddiness bubbling up in his chest.

“Me?? I’m here for pick up!” Adam answered, grinning, “What’re you doing here?!”

“I’m dropping off of course!” He said, still bouncing, “You’re in FunHaus?!”

“In it?” Adam scoffed, “I  _am_ it.”

“Where have I been?” Michael wondered, sagging into Adam’s chest, “I had no idea, man! It’s been forever.”

“Unobservant as ever, I see,” Adam teased, ruffling his hair, “So you’re the boom on this one, eh?”

“Of course,” Michael joked, “I’m the best boom around.”

“Kovic.”

Adam and Michael started at the sound of Vagabond’s cold voice. 

“V-vagabond,” Adam mumbled, “S-sorry. I haven’t seen Michael in...”

“Seven years,” Michael supplied.

Vagabond held out his hand. Adam pulled away from Michael a bit to reach in his pocket. He passed a flash drive to him. Michael stood up straight suddenly.

“Right!” He exclaimed, slipping off his pack, “Here’s my part. Bust it out, Adam.”

Adam rolled his eyes and slung the bag over his shoulder. 

“Crude as ever, too,” he teased.

He pulled a roll of cash from his jacket and handed it over. He then pulled out a business card as well.

“I gotta go,” He muttered, “But text me, man. It was good to see you.”

They hugged again and Michael waved as he drove away. He was still grinning when Adam disappeared. Shit, he hadn’t talked to him in so long. He used to have so much fun with him. He looked at the business card and chuckled. Business card.  What a dork. The card was snatched from his hand and he scrambled to catch it. Vagabond was inspecting it.

“Kovic, really?” He sneered.

Michael grabbed for the card, but Vagabond held it out of his reach.

“Really?!” Michael grunted, “What’re you twelve?! Give it back!”

“Why?” He countered, “So you can beg him to fuck you?”

Michael flushed bright red and swung his fist at Vagabond’s mask. Vagabond caught it easily.

“I-I don’t fuck everyone!” Michael shouted.

“But you’d fuck him,” Vagabond insisted, “And you have. He had his hands all over you.”

Michael stretched up and snatched the card from his hand. He put it away and turned. Of course Vagabond had to ruin the small bubble of happiness. He wasn’t content just making Michael feel weird, no, he had to make him feel bad too. Why was the man so keen on making his life miserable? Always had to play these fucking mind games with him. He didn’t want to play games. Why couldn’t the guy just fuck him and then leave him alone like everyone else did?

Michael started to walk away when Vagabond’s hand grabbed his shoulder over the still healing bruises he’d put there. Michael winced and tried to pull away. Vagabond grabbed his other bicep and yanked his shirt and jacket away to reveal his bruises. He pressed his mask against Michael’s ear, running his hand down Michael’s chest.

“He make such pretty marks on you?” He growled, his fingers tracing over them, “He make you beg for more? He fill you up as good as I did?”

Michael bit his lip, resisting the urge to moan and rub against the man. He jerked out of his grip and whirled on him. He was tired of playing. 

“Will you fuck off?!” He shouted, “You think you get to be jealous just because you fucked me?! News flash, Taskmaster: I’ve fucked a lot of people! You’re not fucking special!”

He spun on his heel and stormed away. He just wanted to be done with this game. He would never win, so what was the point?


	7. Chapter 7

Michael hadn’t fucked Adam, for the record. Not that it was any of Vagabond’s fucking business. Adam was just one of the few people who’d been around him for a significant amount of time and not run away. Maybe he had the tiniest crush on him seven years ago, but now he was a fond memory more than anything else. He didn’t even text him immediately, though he’d saved his number in his phone. 

Vagabond’s possessiveness might have been endearing if he’d spent any amount of time with him outside of trying to fuck or kill him. And if his fucking 180s would stop. One second he looked like he was going to strangle him, the next he was looking at him like he was something special. It felt like Vagabond wanted him to be both a human sex toy and a regular person, but those sentiments directly contradicted. 

Instead of feeling good or warm and fuzzy, he mostly just stared at his bedroom ceiling wondering where the fuck his life had gone. And jerked off. A lot. An annoying amount, actually. His dick didn’t think emotional distress was a good enough reason to fucking chill with all that. Which is why he missed when someone broke in his apartment. They were moving down the hall by the time he heard them. 

And there he was, dick in hand, with an intruder making their way through his place. He knew they had to be after him because they didn’t stop anywhere to look for anything. They went straight to his bedroom. He just barely managed to push his hand under his pillow and reach for the gun just past his mattress when they very slowly opened his door. He immediately launched into the raunchiest sounds he could make to cover up his alertness. They hesitated as he rocked upwards on his bed, getting his hand closer to his gun. They appeared interested though as they poked their head around the door and carefully began to slip inside. He kept his eyes nearly closed as he kept up the act, shifting upwards. 

Unfortunately, they also appeared to have half a brain or at the very least knew him well enough to know that shows were part of his whole deal. He blinked and they’d dove over him, seizing his searching arm and pinning it. He grunted in pain and immediately attempted to roll them. _Get the high ground,_ he thought, twisting and shoving. The guy ended up half pinned to the wall because of how small his bed was. He sent a knee to their crotch and dove for his gun. 

He got his fingertips on it before the person was yanking him down the bed. He kicked back at them as they pulled, but they sat on his legs and pinned his wrists. He allowed himself a moment to be pinned so he could get his bearings and catch his breath. They were small. His hits should do more damage to them than he did to Vagabond, so all he needed was to get some hits off. He was not sure when he started comparing enemies to Vagabond, but no time to evaluate that now. The guy was shifting now, moving to rub his erection against Michael’s ass, breaking the calm Michael had built. _Time to die shitfuck._

“Stop struggling, Michael.”

Michael froze at the voice.

“H-how?”

The weight above him shifted and the guy bit down on his ear. Michael’s brain went a bit fuzzy as memories pulled him partway out of his body.

“What, how did I find you?” He taunted, “You’re so pretty you stand out anywhere. That’s why you’re my bitch.”

Michael’s face twisted into a scowl and he pushed through his fuzziness. 

“No,” Michael growled, “How the fuck did you forget who I am, dickface?!”

He slammed his head back into the man’s face and shoved upwards, sending the guy back. He scrambled forward for the gun and kicked the guy as he tried to keep him back. A particularly hard kick landed on his shoulder, shoving Michael up while pushing the guy away. Michael got his hands on the gun and whipped it around to point at the man. Even in the dim light, the guy could see a gun was pointed at his face. He froze and Michael gestured for him to get off the bed. He slid off and stood aside, hands up. Michael followed, readjusting his pants as he stood.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” He grumbled, “I was perfectly fucking content to live my life without killing your fucking dumb ass.”

He made a move and Michael shot his leg. He screeched in pain and fell to the floor. Michael flipped on his light and crouched down next to him. He pressed the gun against his forehead, forcing him to look up at him.

“You could’ve just fucking stayed away,” he sneered, “And you’d have lived until some other fuck had bumped you off.”

The guy was pale and shaking. Michael was almost ashamed that this guy had ever gotten the best of him. 

“Tell me, Charlie,” he muttered coldly, “What part of you do you think is your most valuable asset?”

Damn, there was the Vagabond in his voice again. He ignored it, though it fucking pissed him off.

“Hands?” He continued, grabbing one of his wrists, “You certainly used them on me.”

He slid his hand up and pressed their palms together.

“Wanna hold hands, sweetheart?” He taunted.

He laced their fingers together and Charlie tried to twist away. Michael twisted instead, and kept twisting until he heard a snap in the man’s wrist. Charlie cried out, his hand going limp. Michael let it fall, grinning at the tears running down the man’s face.

“Not hands?” He mused, “What about your tongue?”

The man flinched.

“Hm, where did I put that knife?” Michael muttered thoughtfully.

Hours later, Michael _chose_ to jerk off onto his sheets, a sense of calm flowing through him. Right there where a man had tried to rape him and covered in one of his rapist’s blood. _Freeing,_ is how he’d describe it.

“So fucked up,” he muttered, wiping his hand on the soiled sheets.

He looked around his bedroom, wincing. Jesus, there was a lot of blood. Yeah, jizz was the least of his worries. Fuck, there was a reason he never worked in his apartment. Fucking cleanup was his least favorite thing. And he had no idea where to start. There were bits of the dude all over. Okay, well, he had trash bags, he should start there. 

_Knock, knock, knock!_

Michael winced. Great, he had a visitor for the first time in the year and a half he’d been there. He picked the gun back up and hesitantly made his way to the door. He peeked through the peephole to see Ms. Jenkins. Shit, she probably needed help with lightbulbs again. He opened the door, laying the gun on the table nearby.

“Hello, 203,” she greeted cheerfully.

“Hello, 205,” he answered, “You need some help?”

“No, no, dear,” she assured him, “It’s just I heard some shouting earlier through the wall.”

“Ah, shit, did I wake you up?” He mumbled, looking at his watch, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries,” she dismissed, “But I thought you should know, your surprise inspection is later today.”

Michael rubbed his face tiredly, smearing through drying blood.

“Shit.”

“Yes, I figured you’d say that,” she commented, “You are always getting into trouble, 203.”

She gave him a scolding look and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish.

“Seems to follow me,” he grumbled.

“Well, you’d better call in a friend,” she instructed sternly, “You don’t have a lot of time, you know. Now I’ll leave you to it.”

She gave a nod and started the short distance to her door.

“Thanks for the warning, 205,” He called, “I owe you one.”

“Ha! I’ll add it to your tab, 203,” she teased, before disappearing behind her door.

Michael waited until he heard all seven of her locks click before ducking back inside his own apartment. Call in a friend. He could call Adam, but he hadn’t yet texted him. He didn’t want to have his first text be asking for a favor. He could call any number of peons, but the problem was he never saved anyone’s fucking number. Because he had at least one brain cell in his head. 

He knew who he needed to call, but that didn’t mean he was fucking happy about it. He locked his door and moved to get his wallet and phone from the bedroom. It was fine. It wasn’t like they were going to call him in. It would just be a cleanup crew. He dialed the number and the phone rang once.

“Password?” A calm, but strangely warm feminine voice answered.

“Achievement,” Michael replied.

“Mogar,” she greeted, “What can we do for you today?”

It weirded him out that she knew his name, but he tried not to think about it.

“I need a cleanup crew,” he explained.

“What is the body count?” She pressed.

“Uh, one,” Michael answered, looking around the room, “But he’s, uh...dismembered.”

_Understatement of the century,_ he thought.

“And the address?”

He told her, though he got the feeling she already knew it.

“Someone will arrive shortly,” she informed him, “When you answer the door, they’ll ask for your card, please turn it over immediately.”

“Got it.”

“Please cooperate fully with them and this incident will be over quickly.”

“Got it.

She hung up and Michael stared at the bloody carpet, zoning out a bit. He felt mostly calm, but there was still electricity buzzing in his veins. There was this jittery sort of feeling in him that he couldn’t place. Like many emotions were flowing through him at once, each vying for control. He looked down at the business card in his bloody hand. How was he supposed to feel right now?

Apparently he had the worst luck, because they had called in the Vagabond. He didn’t know why and he was feeling too weird to ask. As the woman said, they took his card and were inside in a flurry of activity. He pointed them to the correct room and sat down on his couch, elbows on his knees and hands pressed together. He rested his chin against them, staring at nothing. 

“Michael?”

Michael flinched at the sound of Vagabond’s voice and rubbed at his face, trying to wake up. Vagabond was crouching in front of him.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, “I’m exhausted. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Vagabond assured him, “Are you alright?”

Michael let out a short bark of laughter and buried his face in his hands.

“Fucking aces,” he grumbled.

“Michael, on the bed...” Vagabond spoke carefully, “Was that you or him?”

Michael dropped his hands and glared into Vagabond’s eyes.

“Why the fuck does it matter?” He demanded, “Do you really need to know if he fucking raped me?”

“No, I want to know,” Vagabond answered bluntly.

“Why?” Michael growled, “I already killed this one, no need to worry about fucking up whoever touched your little bitch.”

Vagabond’s eyes were alight with anger, but Michael had no sense of self-preservation.

“Or is it that you don’t want sloppy seconds again?” He continued through clenched teeth, “You prefer your bitch tight and unused, sorry I fucking forgot. Too fucking bad buddy, I’ll be a used fleshlight until I fucking die. You’re already too late, fuckhead, so why don’t you take your Gasha ass and find some other whore to play fucking games with?”

Vagabond let out a frustrated noise and backhanded him, but that was it. He got up and left him there and Michael stewed with anger. He’d almost hoped he’d get a violent reaction to distract him from feeling so...unsure of what he should be feeling. He was tired of not knowing how to feel. He shoved the heels of his hands against his eyelids. He felt stinging there and he really, really didn’t want to cry. He was fucking tired of this shit. As if he needed Vagabond’s fucking weirdness right then.


	8. Chapter 8

“Come on, Michael,” Adam laughed, “You know why. We want you in FunHaus ‘cause you’re the best.”

He threw an arm around him, shaking him with a cheerful grin. Michael blushed as he sipped his beer. 

“Best?” He muttered, “I dunno about that.”

“Nonsense!” Adam insisted, slugging his arm, “You said so yourself at the drop off. Best in town!”

“That would be more flattering if all the others in town didn’t suck dick at their job,” Michael grumbled.

“Aw, don’t be a grouch,” Adam teased, bumping their shoulders, “You’re good Michael, that’s why we want you.”

Michael shrugged, looking away. The truth was he didn’t really want to get into a gang. There were too many connections, red tapes, and annoying people. He was never one for organized crime. And he hated having a boss.

“Nah, I’ll just be a regular electrician,” he joked, “Way easier.”

“Way easier to answer to some asshole?” Adam scoffed, “Instead of a good friend?”

Michael looked at him in surprise.

“You’d be my boss?” He questioned.

“Yessir!” Adam answered, snapping off a mock salute, “I’d be giving you all your jobs. So you wouldn’t have to worry about some dickbag trying to screw you over.”

Michael laughed a bit to himself, amused at how tipsy Adam looked. He drank from his own beer, thinking. If Adam was his boss, at least he wouldn’t worry about double crossing or his boss not believing him if something went wrong on a job. And no more unpredictable clients. But...it’d practically guarantee that he’d end up working with Vagabond. Or against him, if they started fighting again. Not to mention all the other bullshit that came with gangs. Loyalties, territories, respect. He wasn’t good at being respectful. He was a mouthy little shit.

“Alright, bud,” Adam said, sighing, “You’re not sure. I understand. So just take some time to think on it. I can give you a tour of the office, answer some questions. You don’t have to decide today.”

He put his hand on Michael’s beanie and ruffled it, skewing it. He laughed as Michael cursed at him and straightened it. Michael grumbled at him about messing up his hair and they talked for a bit longer before deciding to turn in for the night. 

“Come by tomorrow if you want,” Adam suggested, “I’ll show you around. The address is on the card.”

“Business card,” Michael sneered, “What a nerd you are now.”

Adam shoved his shoulder and waved as he left. Michael pushed his hands in his pockets and wandered towards home. It surprised him Adam hadn’t really changed all that much. He was wearing suits for business, but he still wore jeans and a T-shirt outside work. He had a business card, but he still texted emojis at Michael. He was still his warm, smily self with that gentle, calm air about him. It was Michael who’d changed. Michael had become twisted inside, broken up and jammed back together with duct tape. It was a bit annoying actually, being someone else when you talked to someone who knew a different you. 

~

“Okay, this is Peake,” Adam introduced, “He hired you for the last job.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Michael answered, “Good to see you, man.”

He waved and Peake looked over his computer at him.

“Mogar,” he greeted shortly before looking back at his screen.

“Does he ever sleep?” Michael whispered, “He looks exhausted.”

“Two hours.”

Michael winced as Peake answered the question he’d directed at Adam.

“I sleep two hours every night,” he clarified, not looking up.

Adam gestured for Michael to follow him out the door, which Michael did gladly, his face burning.

“Jesus, that was embarrassing,” he mumbled.

“Nah, he likes you,” Adam assured him, squeezing his shoulder, “Normally he wouldn’t have said anything.”

Michael relaxed a bit at that. It was comforting to hear someone liked him. He definitely didn’t like himself. They talked a bit about Peake’s job, which apparently no one actually knew, just that he was one of the most valuable assets they had. Eventually, Adam lead him to a new office and knocked on the door. A faint “Come in” was heard and he pushed it open. Michael wanted to die.

“Ah! Adam, you’re showing Mogar around!” The man behind the desk greeted, “Hello, Mogar. I’m Bruce. I believe you know Vagabond.”

Vagabond turned his head and nodded. Michael waved at them, feeling like an idiot. Bruce waved them in and Adam ushered him into the chair next to Vagabond’s, despite the fact Michael was stiff as a board. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Michael mumbled.

“We were just discussing some tedious business stuff,” Bruce assured him, “How are you liking it so far?”

Michael could feel Vagabond’s eyes staring through him.

“I-it’s organized,” he said weakly, “And everyone’s n-nice.”

“Peake hit him with a full sentence,” Adam piped up, sounding like a proud father.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Bruce exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up, “He must really like you!”

“See, what’d I say?” Adam teased, squeezing his shoulder, “He’s been worried about everyone liking him.”

Michael was an absolutely insane color of red.

“I-I have not!” He protested, “I j-just get nervous around n-new people!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam dismissed, ruffling his hair, “Tsundere Mogar doesn’t need anyone to like him.”

“Fuck you, Adam,” he muttered, crossing his arms, “Whatever.”

“You have anyone left to meet?” Bruce asked, “Or am I the last stop?”

“Last stop, Bruce,” Adam answered, “This is the end of the tour.”

Bruce sat forward and smiled widely at Michael.

“I won’t ask for an answer,” he assured him, “But did we make a good impression?”

Michael smiled weakly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you did,” he answered honestly, “It looks professional, everyone knows their stuff, and you guys have a lot of projects that I could find myself helping out in. You’re sort of doing a lot of what I’d prefer to do more often.”

He sighed and shrugged.

“And I’m tired of working with fucking amateurs,” he added, “I’ve had a few bad runs lately and I’m getting sick of it. I want to work with professionals.”

Bruce and Adam both seemed pleased by his answer, but Michael could practically feel the anger coming off of Vagabond. Adam squeezed both of his shoulders and Michael grinned up at him.

“Well, you have plenty of time,” Adam assured him, “We could probably take you out to one of our projects if you’re interested. And maybe you could run a couple more contract jobs.”

Michael nodded his agreement and they talked to Bruce a few more minutes before time for Michael to leave. Bruce asked Adam to stay back a moment and said something about the business with Vagabond being done. Which is how Michael ended up sweating profusely in a tiny tin can with Vagabond. The thing was hotter since Vagabond appeared to be creating extra body heat with his anger.

“You’re going to work for them?”

Michael nearly flinched away from Vagabond’s icy voice.

“Uh, maybe, I guess,” he muttered, “They need some engineers, I guess. Especially boomers.”

Michael was pretty sure his entire body pulsed with his own heartbeat, he was so nervous.

“And you want to work with Kovic.”

Michael glanced at him.

“I mean, sure?” He said, shrugging, “It’s not really about Adam.”

“Oh?”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck.

“I mean, I guess it’s _because_ of him,” he admitted, “I may not have considered otherwise. Friendly face and all that.”

“He asked you?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at him.

“I mean, yeah, that’s how gangs usually work,” he replied dryly, “Does Fake AH just hire people when they ask?”

“Haus is not a gang.”

Michael squinted at him.

“But Fake AH is?”

Vagabond finally turned his icy eyes on him.

“Yes.”

Michael shrugged and looked forward.

“Whatever,” he muttered, “Yes, they asked me.”

He looked at the numbers above the door. Why the hell did they have to be so high up??

“Are you going to?”

Michael sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, deflating a bit, “Organization, administration, policies, and fake smiles. I’m not that high class. I prefer punching things and bad words.”

“But you’re tired of amateurs.”

“Yeah, tired of running into you,” he answered, that tiredness seeping into his voice, “Just because I manage to find the sloppiest birds in the business.”

Michael threw him a glare. He realized too late that he’d run his mouth into trouble again. Vagabond grabbed him by his hoodie and slammed him against the wall of the elevator.

”I gave you a free pass the other night,” he growled, “In the interest of ensuring our debt was  fully paid. Do not mistake this for leniency. You will regret it if you keep disrespecting me, boy.”

”And here I thought you were so nice because you think I’m beautiful,” Michael sneered.

Damn it was satisfying to see Vagabond’s eyes widening as he realized that Michael had some how found out. He grinned widely as Vagabond moved far enough back to backhand him again and he laughed as the blow landed. Vagabond yanked him up the elevator wall, growling.

“Careful, Ghost Rider,” Michael taunted, “Don’t break your toy, then you’ll have to buy a new one.”

He wasn’t totally sure what the man was ready to do to him, but whatever it was was cut off by the ding of the elevator. He dropped Michael and stormed away. Michael laughed as the doors closed and dropped his head against the wall. 


	9. Chapter 9

Michael ducked, dodging the wild swing. He missed the other fist and it slammed into his ribs. He wheezed, sending an uppercut in return. The lady hissed in pain and knocked his wrist away as he tried for another one. He twisted as their wrists met and gripped hers firmly, yanking her into a jab to the face. She grunted, broke the lock on her wrist, and shoved him away with both hands. She wiped blood from her nose, panting heavily as they circled each other. 

“Come on now,” he taunted, “Don’t go getting shy on me.”

The crowd around them cheered, yelling out a garbled mess. Underground fighting was just as ridiculous as wrestling, but the difference was you actually beat the hell out of each other. She clearly had no interest in playing up the crowd however, as she remained silent. In normal circumstances, her silent searching of his body for openings wouldn’t unnerve him. But she had a cool blue gaze, a black ponytail, and was slightly taller than him. He was fighting Vagabond’s twin sister when he’d come to distract himself from the guy. His eyes flickered to her legs, assessing that they were too skinny and she took the moment.

He tried to side step the jab only to basically throw himself against her other fist. He bent, winded, but seized her arm and spun. He started to jerk it downwards to break it over his shoulder, but she tapped his bicep. He let her go as the “ref” called the forfeit. He gave her a polite smile that she returned and they shook hands.

“Good fight,” she commented, “But it’s poor manners to ogle your opponent.”

Her voice was too high pitched. He grimaced at her, nose wrinkling. 

“I didn’t mean to,” He grunted, rolling his shoulder.

“How about you ogle me at a more appropriate time?” She suggested, grinning.

Michael looked away, rubbing his sore shoulder. She was pretty, but he wondered if having sex with her would make him feel better or worse.

“Sure, I get off at 2,” he teased, looking back at her.

She grinned and they parted ways as she threw a wiggling wave behind her. He hoped she wasn’t that cute in the bedroom or it’d never work out. He sighed as he ambled over to Bryan. He dropped onto the chair next to him as the older man looked up.

“Five minutes,” Michael muttered tiredly, “What’d I say?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bryan grumbled back, “Fuckin mazel. Never doubted you. Whatever. Here’s your winnings. But you’ve got a visitor before the next fight.”

He slid the money over to Michael and signaled to someone. Michael rolled his eyes.

“You’re not my agent, Liberty,” he grunted, quickly counting the money.

“Might as well be,” Bryan huffed.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Michael looked up in surprise at Geoff who once again looked too fucking classy for his surroundings.

“Geoff, long time no see,” Michael greeted, gesturing for him to sit, “It’s been forever since we last flirted.”

Geoff sat, chuckling lightly.

“I suppose so,” he agreed, tone colored with amusement.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Michael asked, in a mock classy tone.

“Well, a little birdie told me something quite interesting,” Geoff began.

“Would this birdie happen to be a six foot killing machine?” Michael cut in dryly.

Geoff hummed with a mischievous little smile and Michael took that as a yes.

“Apparently FunHaus is trying to recruit you,” Geoff continued, “Or so I’ve been told.”

“Haus is trying to recruit you?” Bryan spoke up suddenly.

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Yes, nosey,” He grunted, “They offered me a position.”

Bryan raised his eyebrows at him, looking surprised. It was no secret that Mogar didn’t like gangs.

“I’ve been told you’re seriously considering it,” Geoff went on, unaffected by the interruption.

Michael sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Let me guess,” he muttered, “You want to recruit me before they do?”

Geoff gave him a gentle smile.

“I take it you’ve had other offers,” he guessed.

“Yeah, about fifty,” Michael grunted, “You know I thought considering would just be considering, but instead it’s been a full fucking shit show. I got a fucking pamphlet yesterday. A fucking _pamphlet._ For a fucking small time gang, dude.”

He sighed again and gave Geoff a tired glare.

“You guys got dental?” He quipped dryly.

“No, unless you count punching someone’s teeth out as “dental”,” Geoff joked back, laughing.

Michael rubbed his hand over his face.

“All our history and you still want me in?” He questioned seriously.

Geoff shrugged.

“You’re good, Mogar,” he answered, “Best boom in town. Probably one of the best mercs period.”

“And how does the Vagabond feel about this?” Michael pressed, “I can only assume he’s not fucking happy.”

Geoff’s face twisted into a scowl.

“He’s fucking delighted,” he grumbled, “He basically forced me to extend a job offer to you. A very persistent asshole he can be.”

Michael buried his face in his hands to hide the blush that suddenly exploded there. _Goddamnit, Vagabond, make up your fucking mind!_ He took some deep breaths to calm himself and dropped his hands.

“You haven’t offered anything,” Michael pointed out.

Geoff’s lips curled into a wide, almost insane grin. Michael swallowed at the sight of it.

“I don’t have to,” he answered, “You know what we have to offer.”

Michael glared at him. _Arrogant prick._ The guy pulled out a business card and held it out. Michael reached for it, but hesitated as he noticed Geoff’s tattoos again. He needed to see those sleeves if he was going to remember where they’d met. His jaw clenched. He dipped his hand and caught the man’s wrist instead of the card. He gave him a hard stare that Geoff almost seemed amused by. 

“I learn by practice,” Michael demanded, “Fight me. Get in the ring, show me what you have to offer, _Your Highness._ ”

He popped a boner at the devilish look on Geoff’s face and he really considered trying to use a different method to get the man’s shirt off.

“Okay, Mogar, I accept your challenge.”

Michael had fucked up, hadn’t he? He was going to die. _Oh no._

~

Michael regretted everything he’d ever done as he squared up across from King Geoff himself. First off, the sleeves hadn’t triggered anything. Meaning his whole reason for fighting was totally moot. Second, the man was actually fucking buff. He wasn’t a weight lifter, but his shoulders and arms were decently cut. Third (and most concerning), the room was dead silent. Only the tiniest of whispers were allowed and everyone, even the ones who were there for other shit had their eyes laser focused on the ring.

Geoff held out his fist for a bump which surprised Michael. Most of the underground fighters loathed signs of respect. Michael bumped the offered fist and nodded. Geoff gave him a smirk that sent shivers down his spine. He was going to get fucked up.

“3, 2, 1!” Ref shouted.

Geoff didn’t wait for him to make the first move, another surprise to Michael. He’d expected defense, but he was getting offense. He twisted to avoid the jab and blocked the uppercut. Jesus fucking Christ, that was a lot of force. It jarred him to the side and he missed the chance to deliver a counter. Shit, he was a step behind and Geoff did not give him time to get space between them. He barely had time to get his hands up to protect his face before another blow landed. He ducked and fired off a jab to Geoff’s chest to push him away. It gave him about two inches that he used to shuffle backwards. 

Geoff gave him an amused, condescending look as though to say “you can run but you can’t hide” as he reset his stance. Stance, Michael realized. _Geoff is a legitimate boxer._ He wasn’t imitating the real deal, he was the real deal. Boxers were strong, but they were also predictable. 

As Geoff lunged forward, Michael side-stepped, ducking his head to miss the distraction hook and snapping his arm down on the jab that ghosted past his side. He got an uppercut to Geoff’s chin before Geoff could reset from his wild hook. His teeth clacked together and his face twisted into a scowl. He swiped his hand back towards Michael’s head, slamming the side of his fist into Michael’s ear, sending him stumbling away, trying to blink away the ringing. 

_So much for predictability. That was definitely not regulation._

Michael tried to steady himself as Geoff advanced, throwing his arms up to guard his head. He was rewarded with an uppercut to his gut that he was almost sure lifted him off the ground. He was pinned to the ropes as Geoff punched his side several times. Michael wheezed and threw a blind punch at the man’s face. Geoff grunted and moved to return the swing.

Michael knocked it aside, grabbing his forearm to twist it away as he slammed his forehead into Geoff’s nose. Geoff reeled just enough for Michael to shove both hands against his chest and widen his breathing room. He recovered quick though, immediately rushing back towards him. Michael ducked and side stepped. _Fuck no, get off the ropes!_

Geoff had a second of delay, nearly sending himself into the ropes and Michael snagged his arm, twisting it around his back. The other arm elbowed him in his sore ribs, making him hiss out a pained breath and giving Geoff room to spin, slamming his fist into Michael’s unguarded face. Michael wasn’t totally sure where it came from, but blood filled his mouth with a thick, coppery taste and he grinned. 

He yanked Geoff down by their joined arms and sent his free fist into his face. Geoff grunted, face curling into a snarl as they paused a moment. They were practically mirrored images of each other, arms clasped between them, free one hovering above their heads, waiting to strike. Bloody and bruised, the only real difference was that ones face was twisted into a manic smile while the other an annoyed scowl.

“Not bad, old man,” Michael taunted, “And here I was thinking you’d never be able to get it up.”

“Ha, cheeky for a little shit who’s lost,” Geoff countered, “Are you ready to admit defeat, lowly knight? You’ve been bested by your king.”

“Not by a long shot,” Michael laughed, “You’re gonna have to hit harder than that if you wanna take me down.”

Geoff’s scowl smoothed and he laughed, dropping his fist from the air and tapping Michael’s shoulder. Michael frowned, lowering his fist cautiously as the ref announced the forfeit to an extremely shocked crowd. Their grip on each other’s arms loosened and Michael’s eyes were drawn to the motion. He froze, suddenly squeezing Geoff where his hand held his wrist. A memory flashed through his mind as he stared at Geoff’s forearm.

_“Hey kid, you look like shit.”_

_Michael blinked, squinting through the rain to stare up at the man crouching in front of him. He couldn’t see his face, but the guy had tattoos on his arms. Michael didn’t know him, he didn’t think. Why the hell the guy was crouching in front of him, shirtless in the rain, Michael couldn’t say._

_“You alive?” The man called._

_His voice was rough, like he didn’t want Michael to recognize it._

_“No,” Michael whispered, throat aching, “I’m dead.”_

_“Ha! Look pretty alive to me,” the guy insisted, “Pale, skinny, and absolutely got your shit fucked up, but alive.”_

_“You’re wrong.”_

_“Nope, I’m never wrong, kid,” the guy assured him, “You’re alive. And you’ve got something in you.”_

_He poked Michael’s chest, making Michael sway a bit._

_“No, I’m empty,” Michael rasped._

_“You look like you got run over by a fuckin’ truck,” He pointed out, “But you’re still breathing. Means you got somethin’.”_

_Michael squinted through the rain, trying to see the man’s face._

_“Come on, kid,” He called, “Time to get up.”_

_He reached out a hand and Michael stared at the tattoos running all over his arm and hand. He hesitated, but put his hand out and gripped the man’s wrist weakly. The guy’s hand closed on Michael’s wrist and he hauled him to his feet._

_“Stay out of trouble, kid,” the guy teased, ruffling Michael’s hair._

_Michael stared at the man as he left waiting until he couldn’t see him any more before he dropped back to his knees._

_“No, I’m dead,” he whispered._

Michael dropped Geoff’s arm.

“You...what the fuck?” He muttered, rubbing his aching head.

“Kid, we didn’t fuck, I swear,” Geoff assured him.

Michael shook his head. Geoff didn’t remember it. Why the fuck did Michael? It’d done nothing to help him in the end. Why the fuck was it so important that it stuck in his memory?? He sighed. Whatever.

“Hey, kid, you mad because I forfeit?” Geoff called out, “It still counts as a win, dude.”

Michael rolled his eyes as he finally started making his way out of the ring. Everyone had mostly gone back to their usual ruckus as he made his way to Bryan. Geoff followed him, only stopping to snatch up the clothes he’d removed for the fight. Michael slumped into a chair, wincing.

“You hit hard for an old man,” he grumbled as Geoff sat.

“And you hit soft for a little shit,” Geoff teased back, “So, Lord Bryan, show us what he’s won.”

Bryan slid a sizable stack of money Michael’s way. Michael stared at it, eyes wide. Normally, he would have to have taken three nights of hard fights to get this much. Geoff was grinning at him when he looked up.

“Not a single person bet on you,” Bryan spoke up, “No one thought you’d win.”

Michael stared at the money. What the fuck was he going to do with all this? Well, he had been ogling a new car...no, it would be better to update some of his gear instead, maybe get some clothes without holes in them.

“Um, thanks,” He muttered, “You really didn’t have to.”

“Nope,” Geoff agreed, “I wanted to. So what do you think, Mogar?”

“I think I’m gonna buy a new vibrator,” he deadpanned.

Geoff laughed and Michael looked back up at him. He’d crossed his arms and was looking at Michael with amusement and something nice like affection or adoration. Michael felt a bit dizzy.

“No, the reason for the fight, shithead,” Geoff corrected, though he was still laughing, “What I have to offer. What did you think?”

“Well, I do like being dominated,” Michael answered dryly, before turning serious, “I guess I’m impressed. I’m just exhausted now.”

He dropped his head in his hands to rub at his tired eyes.

“Try asking me when I know if my ribs are disintegrated,” he grumbled.

Geoff laughed again, but abruptly stopped. Michael raised his head to see why and found himself looking at the Vagabond lookalike. She had an eyebrow raised at him.

“Shit, is it two already?” He muttered, “I hadn’t expected to fight such a persistent shithead. Sorry about that.”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care either way and she probably didn’t.

“You look like hell,” she pointed out, “Rain check?”

“You got it,” he answered, “Catch ya later.”

She did another wiggle wave other her shoulder and left the place. Geoff watched her leave before turning to Michael with a very knowing look. Michael glared, daring him to say something.

“Watch it, Your Majesty,” he warned, “Outside the ring I can use my legs and I’m really good at that.”

Geoff’s eyes flashed dangerously, making him look a lot like Vagabond in that moment, but his smile didn’t falter. _Scary,_ Michael thought, _the three faces of Fake AH are fucking terrifying._ Geoff pulled out his business card again, this time just sliding it across the table.

“Call me with your answer some time,” He suggested, gathering himself to leave, “You’d make a great addition to Fake AH. See ya, kid.”

He waved with a cheerful smile and left, annoyingly seeming energized by their fight instead of tired. Michael’s head thumped on the table. _Ugh, is this nightmare ever going to end?_


	10. Chapter 10

“Fucking hold still!” Michael hissed around the screwdriver in his mouth. 

“Easy for you to say,” the guy hissed back. 

“Okay, put me down, shitfuck!” Michael grunted.

The guy crouched, happily dropping him.

“Switch with Vagabond,” he ordered, waving the guy over.

“You think he wants to hold up your fatass?” The guy scoffed, “Such a bitch.”

Michael lunged at him, ready to send the screwdriver through his fucking neck. He was stopped by a strong hand on his forearm. He grunted, ripping his arm out of Vagabond’s grip.

“Down,” He grunted, gesturing.

Vagabond dropped to one knee and bent his neck so Michael could climb on his shoulders. He lifted Michael up to the box and as predicted, held completely still like a statue.

“But I’m the bitch,” Michael muttered to himself, “Fucking Vagabond can hold my fatass just fine.”

Here he was with the weird alley fuck between his legs again. He’d gone two fucking weeks without seeing him and now, because of an amateur, his head was between Michael’s thighs. For fucks sake, he was getting sick of this shit. He wanted to avoid him not somehow accidentally stalk the guy. It was really starting to look like he was fucking _trying_ to see the cunt.

He quickly finished the wiring and screwed the box closed. He tapped Vagabond’s head and the man lowered to let him down.

“Okay, we got ten minutes,” he muttered, checking his watch, “Let’s go.”

They jogged down the corridor and Michael was glad he was behind the other guy so he could flip him off as they ran. Fucking asshole. This was exactly why he hated gangs. You had to be nice to people who suck dick at their job just because your gang liked them. He checked his watch again and suddenly halted. His eyes went wide and he whirled around, seizing Vagabond’s wrist and yanking it close to his face. 

“Fuck!” He hissed, “Yo, fuckwit! Stop!”

To his credit he actually did.

“We need to bust out of here, now!” Michael informed, “I’m gonna blow this fucking wall.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” The guy demanded.

Michael pulled a grenade and yanked the pin.

“My goddamn watch is fucking stuck!” He growled, “We don’t have time to make it to the exit. Move back!”

He rolled the grenade at the wall and they all rushed away. Michael’s shoes slid on the floor and he cursed them once again. Vagabond grabbed the back of his jumpsuit and yanked him behind cover. As the grenade blew, Vagabond curled around him protectively and Michael felt his heart hammering in his chest. Then Vagabond’s boner poked him in the ass and he was back at being mad at him. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Michael growled, “Fucking perv.”

He knew he was going to pay for that later, but that was a problem for the future. They ran from the building as they heard the distant sound of Michael’s electrical sabotage firing off. They sprinted for the getaway car as the building went up in flames. Fuck, if they hadn’t wasted so much fucking time on that jackass being unable to hold Michael’s weight they might have been alright. Fucking asshole. 

~

“That’s rough,” Adam muttered, shrugging, “I’ll be talking to someone about this guy. You got out, though, that’s what matters. I don’t want to lose you that quick. I just got you back.”

He ruffled Michael’s hair, then suddenly yanked him into a tight hug.

“Je-jesus, man,” he mumbled, “I really thought I m-might’ve lost you again.”

Michael buried his face in Adam’s chest and squeezed him back.

“You should always count on me living,” he teased, “I’m a stubborn little shit. I won’t die in a fucking warehouse.”

“M-Michael...I’m sorry about leaving you seven years ago,” he mumbled, “Right...right after _that._ I should’ve stayed.”

Michael’s chest felt tight.

“N-no,” he choked, “You’d already de-decided l-long ago. It was j-just bad timing.”

“The worst,” Adam agreed.

“Kovic.”

They pulled away from each other at Vagabond’s voice, looking a bit embarrassed. Michael tried to pretend he hadn’t been about to cry. Adam handed over whatever payment had been promised to Vagabond and then handed Michael his promised roll of cash. He hugged him again and before Michael could tell him to definitely not do it, he kissed Michael on the temple. Michael immediately shoved him arms length away, pointedly not looking at Vagabond.

“Don’t k-kiss me,” Michael muttered, “I don’t need your damn cooties.”

Adam just laughed, ruffled his hair, and said goodbye. As he left, Michael inched towards his own car. _Don’t make any sudden movements and he won’t attack. Like a velociraptor, just stay calm._ He pushed his key in the lock and turned it, but before he could open the door, he was slammed against it. His head smacked against the window, dazing him for a second. He immediately started squirming.

“F-fuck!” He grunted, “L-Listen, I-I don’t control the man! H-he’s j-“

“Fucking perv,” Vagabond recalled, voice cool and calm.

Michael froze, swallowing.

“Uh, that was the adrenaline!” He argued, “I was, um, mostly-“

“Michael.”

Michael shuddered, his mouth snapping shut. Vagabond pressed his hips against his ass, rubbing his boner against him. Michael clenched his teeth, trying to stop the really embarrassing noise that wanted to come out of him.

“You were right,” Ryan whispered, “I am a fucking perv.”

Michael squeezed his eyes closed, struggling to keep his desire from leaking through. Ryan pulled him back enough to reach around and grab his dick. Michael lost the fight, a moan punching its way out and his ass pushed back. 

“But so are you,” Ryan hissed, “Such a freaky little perv. I bet you’d have let me fuck you there. We could’ve gone up in flames and you would still be begging for my cock.”

Michael groaned, back arching. Ryan’s free hand slammed into the car window and he shoved Michael’s ass against his hips by the one still on his crotch.

“Fuck!” He growled, humping roughly against Michael, “I would’ve given it to you. I would’ve bent you over and fucking died with my cock inside you. Y-you have any idea, fuck, how fuck-fucking sexy you l-look when y-you blow shit up? Like a f-fucking angel of des-destruction. Fuck! Fuck I wanna make y-you fucking scream.”

He was panting harshly against the mask as he dry humped Michael as though he had no intention of actually getting his dick out. Michael grabbed at his jumpsuit’s zipper, trying to encourage him to hurry the fuck up and Ryan immediately jumped to it. He helped Michael shove the jumpsuit away, down past his ass, but he kept stopping to grope him and Michael thought he was going to scream from frustration rather than pain or pleasure.

“Will you fucking hurry up?!” He finally snapped, shoving at Ryan’s grabby hands, “I need you in my fucking ass!”

He looked over his shoulder to glare and Ryan’s eyes crinkled like he was grinning, but he looked like a predator. Looked like he was going to devour him. Michael’s hips jerked in the air, trying to find friction again. 

“So needy,” he teased, reaching in his pocket for lube.

He pressed a gloved lubed finger in him and one of Michael’s flushed cheeks thunked against the cool glass as he sighed. His body released tension he hadn’t realized was in it and he smiled. Ryan’s head pressed between his shoulder blades as he fingered him. Michael felt so warm, so tangled up, so content. 

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Ryan hummed, “You’re so relaxed today. Being such a good boy.”

Michael moaned at the praise, his breath fogging the window. He was ready much quicker than last time, his whole body humming with relaxed desire. Ryan spread three fingers and Michael pushed back, sinking himself all to his hand. He rocked against him.

“Ry!” He whined.

He scowled over his shoulder and he could practically see the pleased smile behind the mask. Ryan shifted, sliding his fingers out and replacing them with his cock slowly, like he had all day. Michael whined and thrust backwards.

“I’ll just do it myself!” He snapped, thrusting back and forth, “Fucking useless.”

Ryan made a throaty growl sort of sound and grabbed the back of Michael’s shirt, shoving him hard against the car. Michael groaned as his other hand gripped his hip tightly. 

“I thought you were a toy,” Ryan sneered, “Fucking fleshlight you called yourself. Fleshlights don’t fuck themselves, _boy.”_

Michael was torn between moaning embarrassingly loud and snapping back, but was cut off by a forceful thrust that rocked him forward and sent his eyes to the back of his head. His hands scrambled on the window as another hard thrust actually lifted him slightly. Michael whined as Ryan fucked into him like he had something to prove. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” he ordered.

Michael squeezed his eyes tighter panting against the window as Ryan’s hand left his hip. He heard the sound of the mask coming off and for some reason wanted to cry. Ryan looped an arm around his waist and the other dropped to the window again as he pressed close to Michael’s back. Michael whimpered and moaned as Ryan clamped down on his neck, biting so hard Michael was sure he’d broken skin. His thrusts went sloppy as he bit again and again all over Michael’s shoulder and neck. Michael came almost as soon as Ryan’s hand touched his dick and Ryan was not long after. 

“Ffffuck, you feel so fucking good,” Ryan moaned, “F-fucking Christ. Two weeks. Fucking im-impossible. I can’t w-wait that long again.”

He was babbling a bit and Michael barely heard him as he slid down the car partway, annoyed that he left a trail of drool on his window. Ryan cleaned him without speaking and Michael’s arms crossed over himself, shivering.

“I got you, baby,” Ryan assured him, pressing kisses to the back of his neck, “Let me get your jumpsuit up.”

“N-no!” Michael cried, “Sk-skin, I need-I need your skin!”

Ryan pushed one hand up Michael’s undershirt and pulled his jumpsuit over his hips.

“I got you,” he whispered, pressing his face into Michael’s neck, “We’re just gonna carefully lower to the ground. I won’t let go, I’ve got you.”

Michael pressed both hands over where Ryan’s pressed against his chest and let himself be moved. He tucked him up in his lap again and Michael let go to shove his hands up Ryan’s shirt. Ryan stiffened against him, but didn’t stop him from rubbing his hands around to his back. Michael buried his face in Ryan’s chest and squeezed as tightly as he could. Ryan rubbed his hand against Michael’s back and pressed featherlight kisses on his sweaty forehead. 

Eventually Michael relaxed, hands falling down to just lay around Ryan’s waist. Ryan’s chest vibrated under his face and through his own chest as he hummed. Michael considered the situation in his pants as he listened to Ryan’s humming. 

His ass was weird again. Not painful, just loose. There was a bit of a dull ache somewhere near his liver where Ryan’s cock had basically stabbed him, but other than that it was fine. His shoulder though, that hurt like a bitch. He was a bit wet as well. No doubt because he’d interrupted Ryan’s cleaning with his neediness. That wasn’t so bad though. Just weird. It’d be easier to concentrate on how he felt if Ryan wasn’t humming something that sounded so fucking familiar. His brain was trying to figure out where the hell he’d heard it.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, the humming coming to a stop, “You back with me?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here,” Michael mumbled, “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” Ryan answered, “Sorry, I think I missed some jizz.”

He brushed Michael’s sweaty hair from his forehead. 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Michael assured him, shifting uncomfortably.

“Feeling weird again?” Ryan guessed.

“Mmhm, weird,” Michael confirmed, “I’m going to get up now. I’m tired, I wanna go home and sleep.”

He paused.

“Michael? What’s wrong?” Ryan questioned.

“Your mask?” Michael pointed out, “I need my eyes to get up.”

“Oh. Right.”

He shifted around a moment.

“Okay, all good,” he muttered.

Michael wobbled his way to his feet, leaning heavily against the car. Ryan was a bit slower than usual as he stood and offered an arm in support. Michael wavered a moment, letting himself get steady while gripping Ryan’s forearm. Oh this one was particularly bad for his stability. His legs were made of jello and his hips ached. What a bizarre combination he thought, looking down at himself. _My asshole is fine, but my hips hurt. Weird._

“Michael?” Ryan called softly.

Michael blinked rapidly and looked up.

“Sup?”

“You’re spacing out,” Ryan pointed out, “Do you need a ride?”

“I would love to ride you,” Michael quipped tiredly.

He swayed towards Ryan who stepped closer to catch him if he fell. He grabbed his jacket sleeves tightly in his fists. There was something else to say, wasn’t there? But he couldn’t think of what. He dropped his head onto Ryan’s chest. Ryan’s arms held him gently.

“I think I can’t drive,” Michael finally muttered, “Will you please drive me home?”

“Of course,” Ryan assured him.

He helped Michael into the passenger seat, then into his apartment building, and finally into his bedroom. He helped Michael pull off the jumpsuit, still hanging around his hips and his shoes. Michael curled up under his covers.

“Thank you,” He mumbled, “You can stay...if you want.”

Ryan didn’t say anything, just started humming that same tune again. The sound lulled Michael to sleep and even though he knew he wouldn’t keep watch all night, it felt safe just to have someone with him. 

~

“-sy. Can’t you call in the b team?”

Michael’s brain woke up to Vagabond’s cold, angry voice. 

“Th-that’s not...”

Now he sounded a bit embarrassed.

“He’s asleep. We’re not...”

He was being called a pig for skipping work to bone Michael no doubt.

“He...actually asked me,” Ryan whispered, “He wanted me to stay.”

Michael’s heart hammered in his chest at the vulnerable sound in Ryan’s voice. _Don’t do this, Ryan,_ he silently begged. _Don’t do this to me. Don’t make this sound like something it’s not._

“Is that an order, sir?”

Michael almost shuddered at the return of the Vagabond in Ryan’s voice. He sounded fucking livid, way worse than Michael had ever heard him before. Way more dangerous. Michael wasn’t sure if vulnerable Ryan or livid Vagabond was more terrifying to him. 

“Yes, sir,” Vagabond bit out through his teeth.

Michael was leaning towards livid Vagabond at that current moment. The man shifted off the foot of his bed and the sound of fist going through drywall made Michael jump. He sat bolt upright and glared at the hole Vagabond made in his wall.

“The fuck, man?” He grumbled, shifting down the bed, “Did you have to go fucking Mr. Hyde all over my wall? Fucking Christ.”

Vagabond’s eyes nearly glowed with anger as he stared Michael down. He removed his hand from the wall and Michael found himself reaching out to check for damage. There was a knife at his throat as he took Vagabond’s hand in both of his. He glanced at the knife and scowled.

“You fuckin’ mind?” He grumbled, looking back to the man’s hand, “Ah, you look fine. You might have a bit of bruising though. Idiot.”

He dropped his hand and moved to look at the wall.

“Damnit, now I gotta buy fucking paint,” he muttered to himself, “Good thing I still have Geoff’s money.”

“Why do you have Geoff’s money?” Vagabond suddenly demanded.

Michael scowled at him. Vagabond seized him by the shirt and pinned him to the wall, his face mashed against it, right next to the hole.

“Why?!” Vagabond snarled.

“He didn’t fucking tell you?” He grumbled, “Go fucking ask him, Red Skull. It’s not my fucking fault he didn’t say shit.”

There was a pause in conversation and Michael was starting to wonder if he’d pushed a bit too hard. 

“He fuck you?” Vagabond growled.

“You know I’m not actually a fucking hooker, right?” He snapped back, “Go ask him. It’s not my damn job to tell you shit.”

He grunted as Vagabond shoved his forearm hard against his upper back. The mask crowded against the side of his face and he scowled at him.

“I thought I told you to be respectful,” Vagabond growled, “You’re fucking aching for a lesson in manners, aren’t you? Is that why you keep provoking me? You want me to punish you, _boy?”_

Michael physically shook with the effort not to scream “Yes” at the top of his lungs. 

“You don’t even have to open your mouth,” Vagabond sneered, “Your whole body wants me to put you on your knees and teach you some humility.”

Michael actually bit his tongue to stop himself from making any noises. 

“Too bad for you,” Vagabond taunted, “I have another date.”

Then he was gone and Michael slid down the wall, gasping. 

“Fucking Christ!” He hissed, “Fucking asshole!”

He definitely didn’t furiously masturbate over the thought of Ryan putting him on his knees. And he definitely didn’t moan out the guy’s name as splattered jizz all over his wall. 

“Fucking hell, Ryan,” he muttered after he definitely didn’t do that.

_ What the fuck do you want from me? If you want to use me like a toy, you can’t keep acting like I’m something precious. Choose one, jackass. _


	11. Chapter 11

“We don’t exactly have an office,” Jack joked lightly, “Hop on though, I’ll show you around.”

Michael slid into the golf cart’s passenger seat, swallowing thickly as Jack got into the driver’s seat. Wasn’t she known for roadkills?? Why didn’t these things have seatbelts?? He gripped the seat tightly in both hands as she started forward. Honestly he was still astonished he was being shown around a private military-looking bunker by the Queen of Los Santos while not bleeding or tied up. His shoulder hurt still, but that was from Vagabond’s aggressive possessiveness. He tried to focus on what she was saying, but it was hard to listen when scared for your life.

He nearly launched himself from the cart as they stopped. His legs were weak with anxiety, but he forced himself not to wobble too much as Jack led him through a door into a garage. It looked sort of like a used car lot in that none of the cars matched. There were ten and other than being cars and some of the paint jobs, they looked like they all came from different places, times, and planets. He couldn’t help but feel drawn to the DeLorean, even if it did make him a nerd. 

“You like the DeLorean?” Jack noticed, “It’s mine. I’m a bit of a dork.”

Michael scowled as they neared it.

“Then I guess I’m a dork too,” he commented, running his fingers over the hood, “Looks pretty cool, but I bet it drives like shit.”

“It _is_ a DeLorean,” Jack laughed, “And we have plenty of other vehicles to use for a good drive. These are our personal cars.”

“That would be why I don’t see any sensible ones,” he mumbled as they walked on.

They passed a bike that had been hidden behind a car and Michael’s eyes traced over the details. _Flames. Skull. Black. Gee, I wonder who owns this one._

“Fucking Ghost Rider,” he muttered under his breath.

Jack led him past the personal collection to an elevator that led to the more professional collection. She explained they had a deal with a local mechanic that helped them turn hot cars into legit cars and that most of their vehicles had begun stolen. He tried not to look too impressed by the vast array of vehicles, but he was definitely impressed.

Jack led him back to the golf cart, chatting about their mechanic. Michael provided a bit of information on his own mechanical talents. The second golf cart ride he was a bit less anxious and he’d relaxed considerably by the time they’d stopped. She showed him through a storage type area, which looked like a Costco for illegal activities .

They rode on the cart a few more times and she showed him a couple conference rooms, some information center, and a place she called the heist room. He was a bit surprised by how small their team appeared to be. He only met seven workers who were on duty and Jack only mentioned a few more. It was impressive that a facility that size was run by less than two dozen people.  As they moved on, she threw him a searching glance.

“So what do you think?” She prompted.

He glanced at her and shrugged.

“Haven’t really seen that much so far,” he answered, “But I guess I’m at least somewhat impressed by your operation.”

“Ha! No notes?” She teased.

“You have a workshop?” He asked, “I’ll reserve judgement until I see it.”

“Do we have a workshop,” she muttered bitterly, “What do you take us for?”

“A gang without a proper engineer?” He laughed.

She threw him an amused smile and rolled her eyes. 

“Geoff was right,” she commented as they stopped again, “You really are a cheeky little shit.”

“That’s the other part of my charm,” he quipped, grinning.

She led him into the workshop and he nearly creamed his jeans. He gasped and clapped his hands together, eyes wide like a kid in a candy store. A really dangerous candy store. There was about a dozen workbenches, every tool imaginable, and enough parts and supplies to last months. 

“I take it you like it?” Jack teased.

He grinned wickedly at her and she grinned back.

“Ha! AH’s on the scoreboard now,” she laughed, “We’ll recruit you yet, kid.”

She ruffled his beanie roughly and he grumbled, immediately reaching to fix it. She just laughed harder and they left the room, though Michael was sorry to go. They hopped in again and Michael felt a bit giddy. _A proper workshop._ His absolute dream. Truthfully, Haus was very lacking in engineering. Part of the reason he was getting hired. But AH already had a designated space and Jack mentioned they had one part-timer. 

“Now’s the fun part,” she spoke up as they came to a stop, “Maybe that was more fun for you, but this is _my_ favorite part.”

She was giving him a crazy sort of look that made him swallow. _Scary._

~

“Come on, Mogar!” Jack called, “You can’t hide forever!”

Michael shivered at the sing-song way she spoke. She was fucking terrifying. And she was close again. He needed to shoot or find somewhere else to hide. She was right though, he couldn’t hide forever. He was going to hide as long as he possibly could though. He slipped away from where her voice had come from, keeping his head low. 

He shuffled quietly along the low wall and paused at the corner. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to hear if she was ambushing him. He couldn’t hear anything. He peeked around the corner. _Clear._ He carefully crossed the open area, keeping his gun up. He wasn’t good at longer distances, but for once he legitimately wished he had a long-range rifle. He didn’t want to get anywhere near her, she was scarier than Vagabond when she wanted to be. He ducked behind a curved wall and tried to focus on figuring out where the hell she was. His thoughts were disrupted when an intercom turned on.

“Hello, Mogar!” Geoff greeted cheerfully, “Geoff, here. I thought you should be advised that I’m entering the arena as well.”

_Oh no. 2v1. Not good._ He heard the sound of a distant door opening. Fucking Christ, he really wished he had that rifle now. No way in hell could he take them both at close range. 

“Mogar~! Come out, come out wherever you are~!” 

Michael shivered at the simultaneous singing of the King and Queen of Los Santos. Okay, they were behind him. At that volume of their voice, about thirty feet, maybe? There were three pillars between his cover and them that they’d be reaching any second now. He couldn’t just wait for them to turn away. Strategically, his cover was good, so they’d sweep it before moving on. So he had to act. He could hear the slight shuffle of feet. They were at the pillars. Okay, duck and run. 

He popped out from the wall, firing wildly at the pillars and sprinted away while they ducked behind cover. His shoes slid around a corner and he nearly fell, cursing himself for not buying the new boots he so desperately needed. But lamenting was for the dead and he wasn’t out of the fight yet. 

He weaved through the place, tracing the paths in his head from the overhead view he’d gotten. Hunkering down in one of the better places for cover was no good. No doubt Geoff and Jack knew the map as well as the back of their hands. They’d find him immediately. He couldn’t keep up his running either, all they’d have to do was wait for his stamina to drain completely. He paused at a corner, listening, trying to force his breathing to be quiet. Rustle. Someone was sneaking up behind him.

He ducked and swung a hook into their ribs. He stared at Vagabond’s mask in surprise as the man huffed out a pained breath.

“Is this anyway to treat your noble hero?!” Ryan hissed at him. 

“Is there someone noble here?!” Michael quipped.

He made to raise his gun, but Ryan knocked his wrist away.

“I’m on your side, idiot!” He grumbled, “Or would you prefer three on one?”

Michael made an aborted motion towards kneeing him in the nuts. God, he wanted to kill the man. But he was right, he needed an ally. He scowled at him and went back to his defensive position.

“What exactly is your plan?” Ryan questioned.

He was standing closer than strictly necessary so his mask was nearly touching Michael’s ear. Michael chuckled nervously and cleared his throat.

“A-about that...”

“You’re a moron,” Ryan muttered, “What have you been doing, playing hide and seek?”

Michael’s face went red and he heard an exasperated sigh behind him. 

“I’m thinking, okay!” He hissed, “They’re fuckin scary!”

Ryan snorted.

“Baby.”

Michael elbowed him before he could block it and Ryan seized the back of his head by his hair. Tears sprang to his eyes from the pain in his scalp.

“Manners, _boy,”_ Ryan growled, “Better think fast, they’re about thirty feet.”

He released Michael who suddenly got a very bad idea.

“You have a rifle?” Michael whispered.

“Yes.”

“Give it,” he ordered, holding out his hand.

They traded weapons.

“Twenty.”

“Which direction?”

“Southeast.”

He pointed out the right direction when Michael just stared at him. He pulled Ryan by the jacket behind a pillar and gestured him down. Ryan seemed doubtful about the plan, but lifted Michael onto his shoulders. He held onto Michael’s shins as Michael carefully poked his head around the pillar. He could see their forms, moving as they swept the area. He focused on Geoff, not wanting to have to deal with him hand to hand and fired. Geoff went down with a surprised shout and Jack ducked behind cover.

“What the fuck?!” She demanded, firing wildly around the corner.

Michael tapped Ryan’s head who lowered himself to let him down.

“You took out Geoff, you little shit!” Jack shouted her surprise.

Michael switched guns with Ryan again.

“Isn’t that a checkmate?” Michael called back, “Doesn’t the Queen need the King to make a move?”

“Kid, I’m gonna murder you!” Jack yelled.

He puffed out a nervous laugh. She could. She definitely could. 

“We need to shishkabob her,” he whispered, “You go-“

“Flank,” Ryan interrupted, “Flank her.”

“Right, flank,” he corrected himself, “You go-”

She was sprinting. He dropped as she started around the corner. Ryan fired and she ducked back.

“Ry, you fucking traitor!” She hissed.

He hauled Michael up by his jacket and they hightailed it as they tradedfire. Michael stopped to reload and catch his breath. She was fast as shit! How had he run from her successfully?! Because she was at half fucking power. He was going to die for sure. 

“Do I need to pull your hair again?!” Ryan hissed urgently, “Hurry up and come up with a plan!”

_Hair._ He grabbed Ryan’s hand and weaved his way to one of the cubbies. He slipped off his jacket and moved to grab Ryan’s.

“Is now the time?!” Ryan growled.

Michael halted.

“What?” 

“As much as I want to fuck you in a hail of gunfire,” Ryan muttered, “I don’t think now is the gunfight for that.”

He paused a second, eyes flicking down Michael’s body. He suddenly crowded him into the wall.

“Fuck though, if you rea-“

“What? No!” Michael interrupted, “Give me your jacket!”

Ryan looked doubtful again, but he slipped it off and handed it over. Michael put it on and grabbed the spare mask, pulling it on. 

“Okay, fucking shoot me!” He hissed.

He pushed the handgun into Ryan’s hand and gestured to his side.

“Why? Why can’t I be the distraction?” He asked.

“Because I can’t aim for shit,” Michael snapped, “And we got one shot. Jack’s too fast.”

Ryan hesitated before pressing the handgun to his side and firing. Michael grunted and gasped in pain. _Fucking hell._ His knees wobbled a bit and he reconsidered his life. 

“She’ll be here any second,” he whispered urgently, “Get in position!”

He dropped to his knees and pressed a hand to the wound, hunching over.

“Mogar, you two-timing bastard!” Ryan yelled before he ducked out of view.

Jack rounded the corner and rushed forward. Michael’s face was turned away, but he could tell she’d have a look of serious concern on hers. He swayed a bit to lay it on thick as she came forward. 

“Ry?” She called, “You okay?”

Michael let out a growled grunt and moved his hand to show the wound. She put away her gun and came forward. She was so concerned she’d dropped to one knee before she noticed anything was weird. As Ryan fired, Michael grinned up at her. Her face curled into a snarl and then a grimace as she was hit. Yellow splattered directly over her heart and she grunted.

“Fuckin illegal,” she muttered.

Michael laughed and pulled the mask off as they stood. The intercom came on as he handed Ryan back his jacket.

“This is Geoff speaking,” the intercom announced, “Be advised that Mogar lost because he was hit.”

“Hey!” Michael exclaimed, “My _team_ won!”

He pulled his jacket back on, grumbling to himself. 

“Fuck your team, Mogar,” Geoff growled, “Ry doesn’t count! He didn’t even announce himself!”

“Team Crazy Mad doesn’t need to be announced,” Michael called as they moved to the door.

“Crazy Mad, huh?” Jack laughed, “I like it!”

She threw an arm around his shoulders and then pressed her paintball gun to his chest.

“Me and Geoff are definitely gonna win next time,” she assured him, grinning manically, “You can be sure of that.”

“Ha! You can try,” Michael taunted, shoving the gun away as she fired, “Team Royals is gonna have to step it up in that case!”

Geoff greeted him with a punch to the arm as they left the arena. Michael shoved him away laughing as he dug his knuckles into his scalp.

“Fuck that!” Geoff laughed, “I wanna be Team Mogar next time!”

Michael laughed as Jack yanked him closer.

“No way!” Jack insisted, “Me first! What team are we, Mogar?”

Michael hummed thoughtfully as they started putting away the equipment away.

“Team Glasses,” Ryan spoke up.

They turned to him in confusion. 

“I don’t have glasses,” Michael pointed out.

“No, but you need them,” Ryan answered.

“I do??” Michael demanded, eyes wide.

“Hey, I’ll take you to my optometrist!” Jack offered, “Cool guy. Doesn’t ask why your glasses got smashed to smithereens.”

She ruffled his hair and he blushed.

“Th-thanks,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“So how’s our score so far?” Geoff asked, jostling his shoulder.

“Royals 0, Crazy Mad 1.”

“Okay, smartass,” Geoff grunted, shoving his head down, “I meant the walk-through.”

“Oh. Right.”

Michael pushed Geoff’s hand away to put his beanie back on. Technically they had a really good score. Fake AH was exactly what he wanted from a regular crew. But they had a huge, unmistakable negative whose eyes he could feel burning holes in him. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, you...you guys are professionals,” he finally offered weakly, “Pretty legit.”

“Hmph, pretty legit,” Geoff scoffed, “That sounds like we’ve been rejected.”

“N-not necessarily...” Michael mumbled, ducking his head.

“Geoff, don’t pressure the kid!” Jack scolded, “You know this is a big decision.”

“Hmph, whatever,” Geoff muttered, “Anyway, anywhere else to see?”

“Armory,” Jack answered, “Ry, that’s your domain. You want to show him the armory then let him out?”

Michael’s spine stiffened, but Ryan answered before he could.

“Not really,” He grunted, “But I guess I will.”

Michael tried to mutter protests, but he was completely ignored as Ryan basically dragged him out of the arena and dumped him in the golf cart. 


	12. Chapter 12

“We each have a case no one else touches,” Ryan explained, pointing, “These. We’re planning on adding more to the main crew, that’s why there’s six.”

“Can I look?” Michael asked cautiously. 

“Yes, you can,” Ryan assured him, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Michael stepped up to the first one. He assumed it was Geoff’s but upon looking inside was sure it was Jack’s. He raised his hands naturally to touch the case itself, but decided to err on the side of caution, shoving his hands in his pockets instead. A pair of matching silver knuckles were at the center of the case, almost blindingly shiny, decorated to look like tires. A black beretta was to the left and a wicked looking combat knife was to the right. Past those were several handguns and melee weapons, most notably a fucking stun baton with carvings of fire and the words “Surprise, motherfucker!” As well as a shotgun at the top of the case. _Confirmed, Jack is the scariest,_ Michael thought as he moved to the next case.

Geoff’s obviously. Mostly obvious because the weapons were all ambidextrous or left-handed. The second thing that made it obvious was the fact he had four different Colt six-shooters for some reason, each flashier and shinier than the last. In addition there were several sleek handguns with silencers, a sawed off, and the bottom was lined with ten pairs of knuckles. Boxer. Michael winced, rubbing the still tender bruises over his ribs. He definitely wouldn’t have ribs any more if Geoff had been wearing knuckles at the time. _Maybe Geoff is actually the scariest,_ he thought as he moved on to the last occupied case.

There was only one left: Ryan. Even without process of elimination, it was obvious this was Ryan’s. The majority of the black velvet underneath was covered, the case nearly completely filled with knives. He only had two handguns that laid at the top of the case almost looking like an after thought. The knives looked deadly sharp. They glinted ominously, except the blades that were black which some how looked scarier. Throwing, combat, pocket, hunting, skinning, types Michael didn’t even recognize. They were quite crowded in there and Michael smiled softly. 

“Can’t let go?” Michael teased lightly.

Ryan was suddenly so close Michael’s heart started hammering in his chest. One hand gently laid on Michael’s hip and the other touched his side.

“I like to keep my toys,” he whispered, “And take _very_ good care of them.”

He almost sounded loving. Michael covered his embarrassment with a “Hmph” and pulled his hands out of his pockets to grab Ryan’s wrists.

“Th-this is a...bad place,” he mumbled, “Jack said she’d brand you, remember?”

“We’re not on a job,” Ryan pointed out.

His hands didn’t move though, waiting for Michael to decide. Michael shivered, suddenly craving Ryan’s body heat. Ryan’s arms wrapped around him as though he read his mind and Michael simultaneously loved and hated it. When had Ryan learned to read him like that? Why the fuck did he bother?

“Michael? You with me?” He called, “I’ve got you.”

“Why?” Michael answered, “Why are you treating me like this?”

“Should I back off?” Ryan offered, loosening his hold.

Michael let out a bitter laugh and covered his face. He was being so gentle he was afraid he was being too harsh. 

“Why are you stepping on eggshells?” Michael clarified, dropping his hands, “You’re acting like I might explode.”

Ryan sighed and squeezed Michael closer to him. He dropped his head on Michael’s shoulder and there was a brief moment of silence before he spoke.

“Geoff said I can’t play with you,” he grumbled, “He said I have to stop being so aggressive at least until you decide.”

“Ha! Should’ve known,” Michael muttered, frustrated.

Why would Ryan be gentle on his own? Ryan lifted his head and pressed against Michael’s, the mask’s horrific mouth pressed against his ear.

“I would prefer to be very aggressive,” He groaned, “I want to fucking _destroy_ you.”

Michael gasped, his body shuddering. Ryan pressed his hips close, not rocking against him, just pressing. Michael bit his lip as he felt Ryan’s cock against his ass. _Don’t moan, don’t moan!_

“You fucking love getting destroyed,” he growled, “You love how bad I fuck you up, don’t you?”

_Yes! Fuck yes!_ Michael almost shouted. But he hardly ever missed an opportunity to snap back.

“Don’t get cocky, asshole,” he hissed through his teeth, “I’m a whore, haven’t you fucking heard? Doesn’t take a lot to please me.”

Ryan made an angry sort of growl in the back of his throat and suddenly slammed Michael over the display case. Michael groaned, his lower back dipping. Ryan laid over him, gripping a handful of his hair and yanking his head up.

“You really want that lesson, don’t you, _boy?”_ Ryan sneered, “You keep poking and prodding, begging me to teach you some manners.”

Michael grit his teeth to stop himself from confirming that yes, he really wanted that lesson. He gripped the edges of the case, shuddering and desperately trying not to let any embarrassing noises come out of him. 

“Sounds like empty threats at this point,” He taunted, grinding out the words through his teeth, “All bark, no bite.”

Ryan slammed his face on the glass, pressing his hand over Michael’s eyes. Michael shifted a little, trying to bare his neck better for the coming bite. He jolted and moaned as Ryan’s teeth clamped on right where his neck met his shoulder. Michael grunted as he bit so hard blood welled up, then shuddered as Ryan swiped his tongue over his blood. 

“All bark?” He snarled in his ear, “Despite how often you leave me covered in my marks?”

Michael winced as he bit again. 

“Do I have to fucking brand you, _boy?”_ He growled, “Do I have to collar you? What more do you need?”

He bit again as Michael’s mind went wild with Ryan staking his claim on his body.

“You belong to me, _boy,”_ he hissed, voice dangerously low, “I don’t care who fucks you. I don’t care how used you are. All that matters is that you fucking love what I give you and you are _mine.”_

Michael’s brain focused on the words and his heart pounded in his chest. He blushed horribly and jerked back against Ryan.

“Y-Yes!” He cried, “Y-yours! I’m yours! R-Ry!! Pl-please! Please fuck me, Ryan! Please!!”

Ryan moved back enough to smack a hand hard against Michael’s ass. Michael writhed, whimpering out a moan. Ryan leaned back over him, lips on his ear.

“Do you deserve a reward, _boy?”_ He whispered, voice rough in Michael’s ear.

Michael shuddered and pushed against Ryan as he recalled when those words had been spoken before. What had he said?

“I dunno,” he repeated, though his voice wavered, “I’ll take whatever you give me, sir.”

Ryan’s body jerked against him as the man moaned right in Michael’s ear. Michael gasped and his knees wobbled. 

“Such a good boy,” Ryan purred, still in his ear, “You can be such a good boy when you really need my cock in you.”

He reached around Michael and groped his boner. Michael’s body slumped as his knees gave out. He whimpered pathetically as Ryan pulled him from his jeans and ran his hand up Michael’s cock. Gloves, gloves. He had his gloves on again. Michael’s ass pushed up. Why did it turn him on so much?? Ryan’s hand left his grip and he whined in protest.

“Shh, baby,” Ryan cooed, “I’m just getting lube.”

“Pl-please, s-sir!” Michael pleaded tearfully, “Pl-please, I n-need you!”

“Fuck!” Ryan hissed, “Fuck, I love your begging.”

Michael pushed his ass back urgently. Ryan’s hand returned, now without the glove, but covered in cool liquid. Michael groaned as he slowly jerked him off. He whined, rubbing against Ryan’s cock to silently beg for it. Ryan made no moves to give it to him, instead just pressing kisses and occasionally rubbing back. One hand sped up its motions, goal fairly clear, while the other flexed and loosened over his eyes like Ryan couldn’t decide if he still wanted his eyes covered. 

“R-Ry!” He cried urgently, “Ry, I’m gonna-! Ry!”

“Do it,” Ryan ordered, nearly growling in his ear, “Show my other toys why you’re my favorite.”

Michael choked out a sob as he came. His hands finally released the case and Ryan’s hands moved away to clean him up. Michael lifted onto shaky elbows and looked down at Ryan’s “other toys”. On display. Pretty, taken care of, but stuck behind glass. Michael saw half his face reflected on the glass. Was that what Ryan wanted from him? To display him? Keep him locked up? 

Toy. Michael wondered why the term suddenly made him shiver. He curled in on himself, staring wide-eyed at the knives. That’s why he was here. He was a toy. Ryan had been the driving force behind the job offer, Geoff had said. Ryan’s arms wrapped around him, startling him from his thoughts. His head dropped to Michael’s shoulder again.

“I’ve g-got you,” he mumbled, “I’ve got you.”

“Yes,” Michael whispered under his breath, “You do.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Yeah, I heard Mogar’s in again today.” 

Michael’s hand paused halfway to his mouth.

“Again? Jeez. That’s a bit...often, don’t you think?”

Was it? Michael wondered, lifting his hand the rest of the way to take a drag off the cigarette. He shrugged. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.

“Hey, I told you he wasn’t doing contract work.”

Michael frowned as he puffed smoke from the corner of his mouth.

“I’m starting to believe you. And he sticks to Kovic like glue.”

Michael scowled. He didn’t like where this was going.

“Tellin’ you. He has a reputation for being, er, _good.”_

Michael _really_ didn’t like where this was going.

“I mean, why lie? It’s not really a bad thing. Of all the shit we do, a call boy would be the least concerning.”

Michael wanted to shrivel up and die. 

“I don’t think he’s getting paid necessarily. I think it’s a favor for a favor situation.”

Great. So he wasn’t even a hooker.

“Meh, still. Who cares?”

“I do,” Michael spat, coming around the corner of the balcony.

The two had the decency to look at least some what apologetic.

“I’m not fucking Adam,” he grunted, flicking his cigarette off the building, “Adam has a lot more integrity that. Don’t be fucking assholes.”

“Sorry, man, you’re right,” one of them answered.

“It’s not about integrity, my man,” the other insisted, “It’s totally fine. If you want to use one of your-“

They paused, eyes trailing up and down his body.

“Skills,” they finished, “To, er, come out on top, then so be it. And if Kovic wants to use your skills, then lucky him. We’re all criminals. Some of us are good at killing people, some of us are good at being a bitch. No shame in it.”

Michael definitely shouldn’t have thrown the person off the balcony, but he did. The other watched on with disinterest, muttering that they had it coming. He stormed back inside FunHaus and basically kicked in Adam’s office door.

“Sorry, just thought you should know,” he muttered, “I just bumped off one of your underlings. They’re splattered across the ground now.”

Adam raised his eyebrows and immediately got up, walking over to Michael and putting his hands on his shoulders.

“What is it?” He asked, “What’s wrong?”

Michael barked out a humorless laugh. 

“What’s wrong?” He repeated in a bitter tone, “I just threw someone off the balcony and you’re worried about _me?”_

“Michael...what is it?” Adam tried again, “You look seriously distressed.”

“Your company thinks I’m fucking you,” Michael answered bluntly, “They think that’s how I ended up here.”

Adam squeezed his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “That must be a terrible thing to hear.”

Michael looked into his concerned eyes for the first time since he’d busted through the door.

“What about you?” He demanded, “Aren’t you upset people think you’d do something like that?”

Adam shrugged, looking thoughtful a moment.

“It’s not really my talent being questioned,” he pointed out, “I guess I am a bit annoyed. But really, of the two of us, my situation would be the more desirable one.”

Michael sighed and pulled away from him.

“I don’t think I can take the position,” he muttered, “Thanks anyway.”

“Michael, w-“

Michael ignored him, getting to the elevator and leaving the building. Michael knew he had a reputation for being a slut, but he’d also built a reputation as a respectable engineer and badass. Why did his occasional use of his body negate the rest of his reputation? And if he was so damn good at his job, why the hell did everyone still think he was using his body?

It really shouldn’t bother him and people thinking he fucked Adam probably wouldn’t normally. But hearing it just five days after his visit with AH made him feel like someone had torn the stitches on a wound that was still painful. 

“I need to get into a fight,” he muttered.

~

“Yo, Liberty,” Michael greeted, making his way over to Bryan, “You got any openings tonight?”

He flopped down next to him and Bryan gave him an annoyed look.

“Not for you,” he grumbled.

_Wow, that actually stings,_ Michael thought feeling even more depressed.

“What, why?” He pressed, “Don’t I usually do a fantastic job?”

“Yes, that’s why, dumbass,” Bryan grunted, “No one wants to bet against you. I can’t pay you shit if no one fucking bets against you.”

“That’s okay,” Michael assured him, “I don’t need the money.”

Bryan rolled his eyes.

“Yes, but I do,” he pointed out, “You think I do this solely to watch kids beat the shit out of each other?”

“Put him against me.”

Michael jumped in surprise at the sudden closeness and chill of the Vagabond’s voice. He looked up, eyes wide.

“Vagabond, you want to fight Mogar?” Bryan clarified, “Aren’t you guys working together now?”

“No!” 

They startled each other by speaking together. Michael was ready to melt into the ground. They glanced at each other before Vagabond refocused on Bryan.

“You should have a good split on betting,” he assured him.

Michael protested, glaring up at him. Bryan just stared at him a moment before shrugging his shoulders.

“Alright, I guess,” he relented, “I’ll put you in slot three.”

Vagabond gripped Michael’s shoulder and pulled him into one of the darker corners of the place. Michael yanked his shoulder out of his grip.

“Now what?” He snapped, crossing his arms.

“Where have you been the last week?” Ryan demanded.

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Working contracts with Haus,” he grunted, “You know where I fucking live, man. And Geoff has my fucking number. You don’t have to fucking track me to a fight or a job for a fucking booty call.”

Ryan looked away a moment.

“Actually, Geoff won’t let me,” he finally muttered, tone bitter, “I’m not allowed to go to your place uninvited and he refused to give me your phone number.”

Michael groaned and covered his face. _Of course. Great._

“Give me your phone,” he ordered, dropping his hands.

Ryan hesitated before handing it over. Michael punched in the code, but the phone didn’t unlock. God-fucking-damnit, why was everything so damn complicated?! 

“What’s the code?” He grumbled, annoyed.

Ryan punched it in and the phone opened. Michael quickly put in his phone number and passed it back. He rubbed at his tired eyes.

“There,” he muttered, “Now just text me with your booty calls. Fuckin asshole.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed and he made to grab his shirt, but Michael gripped his wrist.

“Ah! No fighting outside the ring,” he grunted, “Don’t get me fucking banned.“

He stepped closer, until his face was only a couple inches from the mask.

“Not before you have the chance to teach me that lesson, _sir,”_ he whispered, a smirk spreading on his lips.

He knew for sure this time that aroused Ryan, based on the way his pupils suddenly dilated. His hand twisted in Michael’s grasp and he grabbed Michael’s wrist so hard it was definitely going to bruise. His eyes were bright and crinkled up like he was grinning as wide as the mask was.

“Don’t worry,” he taunted, “I‘ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget, _boy.”_


	14. Chapter 14

Unlike with Geoff, the room was buzzing with excitement when they stepped in the ring. Everyone wanted to see the Vagabond fight and Mogar was a good match because they knew he could drag it. Rather than the whole room waiting for him to be destroyed, they wanted him to do his best to win. It didn’t help that literally no one liked the Vagabond. 

Michael’s body nearly visibly vibrated with his own excitement. It was like electricity fired off in his veins as they cheered him on. But the attention that went straight to his dick was not the crowd’s. He didn’t have to look at Ryan to feel those eyes staring through him, inspecting him. He was glad he made it a rule to always wear a cup because he was so fucking hard. It felt like Ryan knew it too, but it usually felt like Ryan knew everything. 

“Yo, M,” the ref called, “A word.”

Michael bent over, leaning against the corner to talk to him. Definitely not presenting his ass. If anyone (Ryan) happened to notice his ass, that wasn’t _his_ fault.

“Sup?”

“The Vagabond has conditions,” the ref explained, “He wants to make sure you don’t attempt to remove any articles of clothing.”

“Mine or his?” He grunted.

The ref frowned.

“His, obviously,” they answered, “The mask, M. He wants to make sure you don’t try to get it off.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have a death wish,” he scoffed, “What else?”

“No hair pulling,” the ref continued, “And the biting condition he wanted to be sure you followed. I assured him it’s not allowed, but he said if you bite him, you’ll regret it.”

Michael shuddered. His mind suddenly split into “bite the shit out of him” and “knock your teeth out to make sure you don’t”. He swallowed and tried to focus back at the matter.

“Okay, anything else?” 

“He said you have a personal wager?” The ref answered, sounding unsure, “He said if he wins, you’ll have to give him what you keep offering him? Very cryptic.”

_Ah._ Michael looked over his shoulder where Ryan leaned casually against his corner. He hadn’t changed, but he had taken off his jacket and untucked his shirt. Michael tried not to look at his crotch, but he found himself looking for a bulge. He grinned and turned back to the ref.

“Okay, tell him I accept,” he instructed, “But only if he keeps his gloves on.”

The ref looked extremely confused, but walked off to tell Ryan as Michael stood and faced the man. Ryan leaned to listen to the relayed message. He glanced at Michael and even though he couldn’t see his face at that distance, Michael could see those evil grinning eyes in his mind. 

Ryan pointed and the ref returned his gloves to him. Michael’s spine tingled as he watched him snap them back on. The ref announced they were starting soon and they walked towards each other. Michael held his hand out for a shake, grinning as they got close enough for him to see those eyes staring down at him. Ryan took his hand.

“Interesting,” He murmured, “I’m not sure I expected a leather fetish from Mogar.”

“Hm, I don’t think it’s the leather,” Michael admitted, looking down at their clasped hands.

He stepped a bit closer and rubbed his thumb over the glove.

“I think it’s you,” he whispered, eyes flicking back up.

Ryan shivered, his eyes wide. 

“I’m going to win if it fucking kills me,” he growled, tone low.

Michael’s heart thundered in his chest.

“That eager to get your hands on me, _sir?”_ He cooed sweetly.

Ryan stepped forward menacingly and Michael could’ve dropped to his knees right there in front of everyone. But before Ryan could hiss out a warning about manners, the ref called for the start. They dropped hands and stepped back into defensive positions. Michael felt pretty confident. He knew how Ryan moved, knew how he fought, knew how to land blows on him. Unfortunately, he also knew that he’d never once won against him. He was going to give it one hell of a fucking go though.

“3, 2, 1!”

He twisted, letting Ryan’s left fist pass by his right side as he crossed his arms to block the right. He yanked the fist that landed on his forearms to the side as Ryan’s other fist grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him closer. Michael twisted and slammed his shoulder into him, sending him backwards a step, giving Michael a split second to knock Ryan’s fist off his shirt, which he failed to do. But what did happen was useful in distracting Ryan. As Michael shoved his arm away, his shirt went with it, baring nearly his whole shoulder, one of Ryan’s favorite parts of him. 

The brief moment of hesitation as Ryan’s eyes ran over his skin were enough to drop Ryans hand and send his now free fist into the mask. Ryan finally released his shirt with a grunt and Michael reset. Ryan’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Ah, shit, he’d noticed Michael using his body as a distraction. He was in trouble now. 

Ryan lunged and Michael sidestepped, finding a fist directly in his face a split second before it landed. He was stunned a bit from the force, but managed to block the other fist as it uppercut and jabbed Ryan’s ribs in counter. Ry grabbed his blocking arm and twisted it, forcing Michael to twist with it or get his arm dislocated. He blocked Michael’s other elbow as it reared back to slam into him. Michael squirmed trying to get free of the hold and trying his absolute best to ignore the boner poking his ass.

_Boner._ Michael’s face spread in a wicked grin. He pressed his ass back, getting a satisfying gasp from Ryan as a result and yanked on his elbow, getting it freed. He grabbed Ryan’s hand and brought it over his shoulder, twisting it and bringing Ryan even closer. He grunted and heaved, attempting to haul the man up and over. Ryan went, but frustratingly maintained control of it, almost graceful as he landed on his feet.

He released Michael’s arm as it made a loud sort of snap and Michael shrieked as pain exploded in his shoulder. He shuffled back, putting up his good hand to block while keeping the dislocated one far from Ryan who shook his head. He went into a fight stance, but he sighed.

“You lost, Mogar,” he grunted, “Don’t make me hurt you more.”

And god, Michael wanted to unpack why the hell his boner popped back in full force from _that,_ but he didn’t have the time. 

“I don’t back down,” Michael taunted, “Just ask King Geoff.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Ryan’s eyes as they circled each other.

“Didn’t he tell you?” Michael jeered, “We fought not too long ago. I’m sure some of these good folks could tell you.”

The crowd cheered and Michael felt sparks in his gut. 

“He and I had _an...invigorating_ fight,” he continued, “Got a few bruises, bloody mouth, and in the end, the King nodded his head in respect. He allowed me to walk out on my own two feet because we had a good fight.”

Ryan’s eyes were absolute fire as they glared at him. They were getting closer and closer with each circle. Ryan’s hands were shaking with rage. He definitely didn’t like Michael talking about Geoff during their foreplay fight.

“He’s a good dance partner,” Michael went on, tone almost teasing, “Maybe I should dance with him again.”

_ Perfectly within range now. Just have to get him to bite. _

“He’s a good man,” he said, thoughtfully, “And he’s top of the food chain. Higher than you.”

Ryan stopped, tensing to launch at him.

“Maybe he’d like a similar _personal_ wager to ours?” He taunted, quieter, grin going wide.

Michael was pretty sure those blue eyes were red when Ryan’s heavy boot launched towards his side. Michael laughed as he blocked the boot with his elbow. It jarred him, sending him stumbling and no doubt he’d have a horrific bruise not too long from now. Before Ryan could grab him or hit him again, the ref called the forfeit on grounds of rule violation. A look of realization passed over Ryan’s eyes and they narrowed dangerously. Michael was harder than he’d ever been in his entire life. They were very close now.

“Can you fix my arm before you kill me?” Michael grunted.

Ryan grabbed it and popped it in place so fast Michael’s head spun. Then he grabbed his other arm and dragged him to gather their things. Michael barely had time to collect his winnings and tell Bryan if he died he blamed him before Ryan had whisked him out of the place. They stopped in a dark alleyway where Ryan grabbed his shirt and lifted him off the ground. He shoved him against the wall, mask practically touching Michael’s face.

“Whose are you, _boy?!”_ He growled.

Michael’s whole body shuddered. God he really wanted to answer correctly, but he also hated it, totally infuriated by his possessiveness, even if it did do things to him. What fucking right did he have to be possessive?? All he did was play with Michael, he said it himself. 

“Didn’t I already tell you that you don’t get to be jealous?!” He spat.

“And didn’t I tell you,” Ryan snapped back, “To be respectful? What makes you think I won’t punish you _?”_

Michael gripped his forearms tightly, trying to ground himself to stop from fucking _begging_ Ryan to punish him.

“I won,” he gritted out. 

The dangerous flash of fire in Ryan’s eyes sparked a wave of electricity up his spine. He bit his tongue trying to stop the moan in his throat.

“You think I have to put you on your knees to teach you a lesson, _boy?”_

Michael’s head thunked against the brick wall and he let out a whorish moan, his body jerking. 

“F-fuck! R-Ry!!”

Ryan practically fully dropped him back to his feet. One hand left him and he squeezed his eyes closed on instinct. Ryan tucked the mask away and dove into his neck, clamping down harshly. Michael moaned and pawed at Ryan’s shirt. 

“Fuck, one week is too long too,” Ryan growled in his ear, “I fucking _need_ to be inside you.”

“Ry! Pl-please!” Michael whined, tugging at his shirt.

”Look at you being so submissive ,” Ryan taunted, “You always turn so tame when you need my cock.”

”Ryyy!” Michael whined as Ryan big more harsh marks on his neck and shoulder, “Please!”

”Please what, Michael?” Ryan growled in his ear, “Be specific, baby or I won’t know what you need.”

Michael groaned. Smug fucking prick. He wanted him to shut him up, wanted him to be too busy to taunt him. Wanted to feel his mouth, know what he tasted like, know if his lips were as soft as he imagined. Wanted to cry with how bad he suddenly wanted to kiss him.

”K-kiss me!” He whimpered, “Please! R-Ry, Please-Please! I-I want t-to feel your mouth on mine! I-Please-I want kiss you! Please, R-Ryan! I need you!”

Ryan’s fist slammed against the wall over Michael’s head and his body pressed fully against him.

“Fuck, I can’t say no when you beg like that,” he groaned.

His other hand pressed over Michael’s eyes before his mouth pressed against his. Michael moaned and mouthed back eagerly, licking past his sinfully soft lips to taste him. Sweet, sort of metallic, he tasted like soda. Michael reached up, grabbing around his neck to push closer. Ryan was hesitant at first, but warmed up fast, his hands running over Michael, pushing into his hair, rubbing around his side to his back, and his mouth seemed just as eager to explore. 

But well, Michael was never a lucky man. Such a beautiful, raw moment of connection with Ryan couldn’t last long enough to do them any good. This moment was broken by someone else though, so at least Michael could say he tried.


	15. Chapter 15

They were louder than Ryan had ever been while sneaking up on him, so he was surprised Ryan didn’t react. He released Ryan’s neck, putting one hand over his face, trying to block it from view while his other trailed under his jacket and gripped Ryan’s gun in the shoulder holster. Ryan shifted forward, kissing across his jaw to his ear. His hand drifted to where Michael’s gun was tucked in his jeans. Now on the same page, they shifted around until they were in a decent position. 

“Left or right?” Ryan whispered between kissing his neck.

“My right,” Michael answered under his breath.

“Now,” Ryan hissed.

They ducked apart, Michael sliding right and Ryan going left. Their sudden movements surprised their audience allowing them to drop a few before the real fight began. Michael did his best to not look behind him as he launched forward. He ducked his head, running shoulder first into the nearest enemy. They wheezed as he jammed his gun in their ribs and fired. He shoved them into the next nearest one and sidestepped a jab, snapping his leg up and shoving his shin in their guts. They stumbled back and he shot inches from their face.

A baseball bat landed on the outside of his thigh and he grunted, stumbling forward into a knife. It grazed his side and completely tore his jacket. He only had like two jackets! He growled, knocking the knife away while mule kicking the bat-wielder in the crotch. Knife-wielder went for a hook with their free hand that he threw up his arm to block while lifting the gun to fire. He winced as they hit the place on on his elbow where Ryan had fucked him up. He fired, a bit off, but hit them and they dropped. 

He ducked at the whistling sound of a bat aimed at his head and spun, shooting the bat-wielder. As they dropped, he noted that Ryan had way more guys on him. He had a knife-wielder as well and Michael tackled them before he even realized he’d moved. He slammed his fist into their face, wincing because of the gun he still had in his grip. He shot them three times as someone grabbed his shoulder. He shoved the gun in their guts and fired, but it was empty. 

“Shit!” He hissed, dropping it as he was hauled to his feet.

He grabbed the arm holding him up and blocked the other as it went for his guts. He twisted his block into a grip on their wrist and slammed his foot into their stomach. They bowed over and he slammed his knee into their face. They dropped and Michael rushed forward, knocking aside someone who had a bat lifted about to swing on Ryan. He grabbed the bat and slammed his fist down on their forearm, a loud crack and a shriek indicating he’d broken at least one of their arm bones. They dropped to their knees and he smashed the bat into their face, knocking them out. He slammed it in their face again, growling. 

He heard the sound of running, interrupting how many times he wanted to beat their face in. He whipped around, seeing one of them fleeing and launched into a sprint after them. No way in fucking hell was he going to let them get away. Luckily they were sloppy from being fucking terrified as the Wolf of Los Santos was hot on their tail. They stumbled, Michael swung, and they fell. He grunted in annoyance, looking behind him to be sure Ryan was alright before he grabbed their collar and dragged them back to the others. He dumped them in the pile and squeezed his eyes closed.

“T-tell me wh-when you-“

He was interrupted by a messy kiss on his lips. He dropped the bat and shoved back, grabbing at Ryan’s loosening ponytail to bring him closer. Ryan reached down to lift him by his ass and Michael hopped up, eagerly wrapping around him. Ryan stumbled through the bodies, roughly pushing him against the wall and shoving his hands up Michael’s shirt. Michael jerked, hissing as Ryan’s hand ran over the knife wound. Ryan pulled off immediately and pushed up Michael’s shirt.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Michael assured him, “It’s just a scratch!”

Ryan sighed heavily and tugged Michael’s legs off him. Michael repeated the sigh and let go of him. He leaned his back against the wall as Ryan started poking around him to see if he had other injuries. 

“I’m fine!” Michael snapped, smacking his hands away, “What about you? I can’t see.”

His hands fluttered midair uselessly.

“What?” Ryan asked.

His hands touched Michael’s face.

“Is something wrong with your eyes?”

Michael scowled.

“No, your mask, idiot,” he muttered.

“Right. Hold on.”

His hands moved away and there was a longer pause than usual. Michael rubbed his thumb over his fingers. Right, he’d messed up Ryan’s hair. Why the fuck was Ryan’s hair so greasy?

“Okay, all good.”

Michael immediately looked down at his greasy fingers. They were black? He stepped into the minimal light. Not blood, definitely some sort of grease. He looked over at Ryan where he was hunched over one of the bodies. His hair. It wasn’t black. It had grease paint in it. _Fuckin gross._ He rubbed his fingers on his jeans. _Fuck, shouldn’t have done that._ Now he’d never get them clean. Ah, and he was covered in blood again. And his jacket was fucked. _And_ he really needed new boots. He stared down at himself and sighed. He was a fucking mess. 

“Yeah, I’m still at NG’s ring,” Ryan’s spoke up, distracting Michael’s thoughts, “About a dozen guys just jumped us.”

He was talking to Geoff or Jack. Michael shook himself a bit and started checking pockets. 

“Mogar.”

He seemed hesitant to tell them he was with him.

“I didn’t-!”

Michael had to stifle laughter. They were calling him a pig again. 

“No, he wanted-“

Ryan stopped talking and Michael could practically feel his eyes on him. He grinned over his shoulder at him. 

“Can we talk about it when he’s not ten feet away from me?” Ryan grumbled, “He looks too fucking pleased by you tearing into me.”

Michael laughed and went back to checking pockets. No wallets or phones. _Weird._

“No colors,” Ryan went on, “No lethal weapons.”

“No IDs or phones, either,” Michael pointed out.

“Right, no IDs or phones,” Ryan repeated into the phone, “I don’t think they expected both of us.”

“Definitely not,” Michael muttered in agreement.

Michael found fifty dollars in a pocket. _What the fuck?_ Every pocket was empty except this one? He twisted to see it better in the light. Not marked in any way. Not brand new, but not very used. Seemed totally normal, why would it be the only thing in anyone’s pocket? 

A hand snatched it from him and he spun, preparing to punch someone in the nuts. But it was just Ryan. So he briefly considered punching him in the nuts anyway. He was holding the bill up to the light, inspecting it. Michael just watched curiously like this was a magic trick that had yet to finish.

He lowered his hands and made to put it away when he locked eyes with Michael. He made a pained sort of sound and Michael held up his hands not sure what to do.

“Wh-what’s wrong?!” He demanded, panicking a bit.

“Goddamnit, Michael!” Ryan hissed, “Get up! Get up before I fuck your face!”

Michael’s eyes shot to his crotch where there was in fact a bulge. Oh boy, Michael was about to get himself in trouble. He dropped fully to his knees and leaned forward.

“I just want to take what you give me, _sir,”_ he cooed, looking up through his eyelashes.

“F-fuck!” Ryan grunted, “Fuck it, it’s fucking worth it. Fuck, open your pretty mouth for me.”

Michael flushed and obeyed, suddenly no longer wanting to tease Ryan. Suddenly he just really wanted him in his mouth. Months of flirting, promising, and practically begging and finally Ryan’s cock was in front of his face. Michael was distracted by the fact he suddenly realized he hadn’t actually seen Ryan’s dick yet. _Oh. It’s a nice dick._ Pre-cum dripped down the flushed pink head and he could see veins on the pale shaft like roadmaps for his tongue. It looked bigger than it’d felt in his ass. 

“I wanna choke on it,” he groaned.

Ryan let out a sharp almost pained sort of moan and grabbed at Michael’s hair to push him forward. Michael gripped his jeans, moving eagerly forward. He was no more than an inch away when they heard tires. They both froze and they locked eyes a brief moment before scrambling away from each other. 

“God-fucking-damnit!” Ryan hissed from the other side of the alley.

“I swear to Christ we have the worst luck,” Michael muttered. 

Ryan mumbled something, his head against the brick, but all Michael heard was “beautiful”. He ducked his head down, propping up one leg to hide his blush behind as Geoff and Jack entered the alley.


	16. Chapter 16

“No, we don’t know these guys,” Bryan answered.

He stood up as he said it and turned to one of his guys.

“Dora? Anything?” He called.

“Nope.”

Michael shifted nervously. This close to their ring and NG had nothing? This was starting to feel like a bad situation.

“Let’s call Haus then,” Geoff instructed, “See if they recognize them.”

“Ah, I don’t think that will get you anywhere,” one of the NG guys spoke up, “None of the locals will known them.”

“Out of town, for sure,” one of the others added.

“Who else would follow the Vagabond into a dark alley?” Bryan agreed, “Besides this dumbass.”

He jerked his chin at Michael who sighed.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he admitted.

“Then they were after Mogar,” Jack reasoned.

The crowd turned to look at Michael who laughed.

“That’s probably not good,” he said.

“You’re an idiot,” Bryan muttered, “Well, we’re leaving. I’d appreciate it if you could dispose of the trash.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Geoff answered, waving dismissively, “Sorry about the ruckus.”

“Not your fault,” Bryan pointed out, throwing a glare at Michael.

“Fuck off, Liberty,” Michael grunted, flipping him off.

As NG made their exit, Michael pulled out his phone and shined the flashlight over some of the faces. None of them looked any more familiar in the brighter light. That was unfortunate. Well, at least these guys were all in one piece to make cleanup easier. He got up and started for his car, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“What?!” He snapped, pulling his arm from Ryan’s grip, “I’m busy, Scarecrow, I don’t wanna play games right now!”

“Where are you going?”

“To space, jackass,” Michael muttered, “I’m moving my car closer.”

“Why?”

Michael spun, his fist flying into Ryan’s mask before anyone, including himself, had the chance to stop him.

“I just got fucking jumped by a dozen dudes, asshole!” He spat, “I’m trying to clean the trash out of my associate’s back yard. So if you could fuck off right now, that would be great!”

He turned back and stormed to his car. _Fucking asshole._ He backed up to the alleyway and opened up his back door to pull down the seats. 

“Mogar?” Jack called quietly.

Michael was pretty sure he could kick her in the nuts before she could stop him. He gripped the doorframe of the car tightly, his shoulders shaking. 

“What?!” He gritted out through his teeth.

“We can handle the clean up,” she assured him.

His hand flew into a backhanded punch that she managed to block.

“How do you not get it?!” He shouted, “Fuck off! I don’t want your fucking help! I don’t want to be your damn friend! I don’t want shit from any of you!”

She seemed stunned, so he moved to his trunk to pop it and start rolling out the tarp. He grabbed the trash bags and stomped back into the alley. He walked around Geoff who reached for him. He smacked away his hand and dropped down to start shoving people in bags. Ryan knelt down next to him and pulled free one of his garbage bags.

“The fuck did I just say?” He snapped.

“Half of them are mine,” Ryan pointed out.

Michael wanted to pick up one of the discarded bats and destroy his own face. He sighed in frustration. _Whatever._ Geoff and Jack remained at the entrance of the alleyway as they quietly loaded Michael’s car. They were nearly done when they heard tires again. All four drew their weapons, but stowed them again when they saw it was Adam. He rushed to Michael and threw his arms around him tightly before pulling back to look him over.

“Are you okay??” He demanded, “I heard there were a dozen men that jumped you! Jesus, you look like hell!”

“Great to see you too,” Michael muttered dryly, “I’m fine. Bruised and sore. But that was mostly the fight before this one.”

Adam squinted at him.

“You had a fight worse than one against 12 guys?” 

“Yeah, just don’t tell him I said that,” Michael answered tiredly, “How’d you hear?”

“Someone told someone,” Adam answered dismissively, “And Mogar is a hot term on our radar.”

“Even after yesterday?” He pressed, doubtful.

“Especially!” Adam exclaimed, “You were so distressed. I was so worried about you! This doesn’t have anything to do with that, does it? Did you go looking for a fight?”

He looked like a stern mother.

“Yes, I did,” Michael admitted, “But that was in the ring. These guys were just here, for some fucking reason.”

Adam looked twice as worried as he should be.

“Are you okay?” He repeated.

“Fuck no,” Michael answered honestly, “I’ve got twelve fucking bags of trash to dump.”

“We can help w-“

“No, you can’t,” Michael interrupted firmly, “I thought I made myself clear yesterday. Would you like me to fucking repeat it?”

“Michael, you don’t have to be in Haus,” Adam assured quietly, “For me to help you.”

“No, thanks,” Michael growled, brushing off Adam’s hands, “Fucking go home. You’re the same as them.”

He gestured vaguely at Jack and Geoff and turned to finish cleanup. Ryan had gotten the last few in while Adam interrogated him. He closed up his car and double checked the alleyway for anything important. Seemed empty. Ryan tapped his shoulder.

“Should I ride with you or follow?” He asked.

“Ride with me,“ Michael muttered.

He rubbed his aching back as they started towards the car. The other three watched him careful and he really wanted to strangle them.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he grunted at them as he unlocked his door.

Adam came forward and hugged him again.

“I didn’t mean to offend, sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m just so glad you’re safe. You’re sending me to an early grave you know that?”

Michael laughed, but the tone almost sounded mean.

“Yeah, in this biz, that’s probably for the best,” Michael joked, “But seriously let go, I can’t breathe.”

Adam released him again and wiped his eyes with a sniffle.

“You always know what to say,” he teased.

“Yeah, yeah.”

They hugged again and Michael got in the car. He was somewhat grateful that Ry slid into the passenger’s seat, but also somewhat annoyed. And by somewhat, he meant extremely. As they pulled out of the place, he considered just telling him to get the fuck out, but couldn’t bring himself to even try. 

“You rejected the offer from FunHaus,” Ryan commented, not looking at him.

“Yeah, pretty violently too,” Michael grumbled, “Threw a guy off a balcony.”

“Why?” Ryan pressed, “I would’ve thought you’d be civil for Kovic’s sake.”

Michael snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don’t like being called a bitch,” he muttered, “Or hearing that people think I’m boning my best friend just because I’m apparently “good” with my body.”

“Ah.”

They fell into silence a moment before Ryan spoke up again.

“You are though,” he pointed out, “Good with your body, I mean.”

Michael’s fist slammed against the steering wheel.

“Thanks, asshole,” he growled, “Should I explain again why that fucking upsets me? Would you care to fucking pay attention this round??”

“I’m sorry.”

He sounded so sincere Michael wanted to cry.

“Just shut the fuck up,” he muttered, “This day already sucks enough. I don’t need your shit too.”

They rode silently the rest of the way and barely spoke as they disposed of the bodies. Once they got back into town, Michael suddenly realized they were going to split up again. He didn’t want to lose the slightly comforting presence of another person, even if it was Ryan. 

“Where should I take you?” He mumbled nervously.

Ryan looked at him a long moment.

“Can I stay at your place?” He asked.

Michael glanced at him in surprise. 

“What, renovating at your place?” He joked half-heartedly.

“No.”

They went silent again and Michael was almost grateful. He honestly didn’t really care, he was just glad that Ryan wanted to stick with him. He was feeling very...scared, if he was honest. After their raw moment, Michael felt different. Felt like something had changed. He was terrified of what it meant and suddenly he was terrified that he’d lose Ryan. It’d been seven years since he worried about something like that. He didn’t understand why it had to be _him._

“Michael?”

Michael jumped in surprise, the wheel jerking a bit.

“S-sorry, what is it?” He mumbled.

“You drove past the turn for your apartment,” Ryan pointed out quietly.

“R-right, sorry,” he muttered, “Tired.”

He turned off to circle back when he noticed something. 

“Hey, Ry-“

“Yeah, we have a tail,” Ryan muttered, “It’s probably good you missed the turn.”

Michael made another turn to be sure.

“Shit.”

“I agree,” Ryan grumbled, “You got any artillery?”

“Uh, an AR under the back seat,” he answered.

Ryan twisted around to retrieve the rifle and loaded it.

“Why do you only have one rifle?!” He hissed as he cranked Michael’s window, “Why the fuck do you have this piece of shit car too?!”

“Good question,” Michael muttered, “We got two more flies.”

“They’re attracted to the shit that is your car,” Ryan grumbled as he shifted into position.

He started firing, but the bullets made the tell-tale “zing” of hitting an armored vehicle. Michael hissed curses and Ryan echoed the sentiment. He aimed for tires, but couldn’t get any of them to blowout. He dropped back into the seat and threw a glare at Michael.

“Now what?” He grunted.

“Uhh, pull my hair,” Michael joked nervously, “Maybe that’ll help me think of something.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ryan muttered.

“Hey, how about you come up with a plan?!” Michael snapped, “The shit’s not easy, asshole!”

“That’s why _I_ don’t do it,” Ryan countered, “I’m a foot soldier. You’re the fucking commander!”

_Soldier._ Michael’s face lit up with an insane grin and Ryan groaned.

“That grin always means you have a terrible idea,” He lamented.

Michael’s only response was manic laughter.


	17. Chapter 17

“This is a _really_ bad idea,” Ryan grunted.

“Trust your Commander, soldier,” Michael barked at him.

Ryan threw him a glare and Michael burst out laughing again. It was a really bad idea. Probably his worst to date. But, well, drastic measures or something, right?

“Ready to ride or die, baby?” Michael called, grinning.

Ryan stared at him a second before his eyes lit up, crinkling into a smile. 

“Born ready.”

“Then let’s get a move on!”

Michael slipped through his window, keeping one hand on the wheel. He glanced to check Ryan was out as well and grinned.

“3, 2, 1!”

They leapt from their respective sides and rolled. Michael grunted a bit, his body already sore. He ducked down into the ditch on his side, but his guts clenched in worry. They had to stay low while the plan went off, so he couldn’t see if Ryan was injured. At least it didn’t take long for the explosion to go off followed by three armored cars driving directly into the confusion. 

The military base’s alarms went off, their cue to book it. He popped his head up to look for Ryan. He didn’t see him immediately, but eventually noticed that he’d already started moving. Fucking asshole was leaving him behind. He hurried down his side of the road to catch up and they quietly made their way to the highway.

“So, steal or hitchhike?” Michael questioned, looking up and down the road.

Ryan grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Michael went to block a blow, but Ryan’s hand just slapped over his eyes. Michael’s heart pounded and he reached blindly to pull him closer. Their mouths smashed together urgently, teeth clacking and biting, their tongues pressing deep into each other’s mouths. Michael was holding the back of his neck again, pushing to bring him closer, to beg for more of him. He wanted Ryan to melt into him. When Ryan finally pushed away, Michael gasped loudly.

“F-fuck I forgot to br-breathe,” he muttered breathlessly.

Ryan laughed at him and put his hand on his cheek. He rubbed his thumb over Michael’s lips and Michael ached to see what face he was making. Ryan’s hand dropped and he swayed. _Right._ They were on the side of a highway, maybe pay attention.

“We’ll have to steal,” Ryan finally answered, “No one wants to pick up two fully grown men who look like they were just working in a haunted house.”

Michael rubbed a hand over his face with a short laugh.

“This is Los Santos,” he agreed, “No one wants to stop for anyone.”

Ryan chuckled and Michael felt dizzy. Why was Ryan giving him all these new nice things to enjoy? His laughter, his gentle touching, his fucking kissing. Like kissing a goddamn angel. 

“You can open your eyes now.”

Michael opened his eyes to focus on the task at hand. _Right. Grand theft auto._

~

Michael’s hand stopped halfway to the apartment building’s front door. Ms. Jenkins had put up a note.

_ Please be sure to remove your laundry from the laundry room!  _

_ -205 _

“Shit,” he muttered, turning back to Ryan, “Can’t stay here. This place is hot.”

They quickly moved to the stolen car and peeled out. Michael was fucking exhausted. He needed to get some fucking sleep already. There was a secluded park over near the docks that he occasionally used as a place to lay low. He preferred not to do so in a stolen car, but there was little other choice. 

“Turn left up here,” Ryan instructed.

Michael raised an eyebrow at him, but followed his instructions until they ended up in front of a tall, sleek looking apartment building. Ryan had him park in the parking garage and they were silent until they were inside an elevator. 

Ryan crowded him into the elevator wall, one hand landing next to Michael’s head. His other hand pulled up Michael’s shirt. He brought the edge up to Michael’s mouth which opened immediately and bit down on the fabric. Michael stared up at him with wide eyes as his fingers ghosted over the knife wound. 

“You were right,” Ryan muttered, “Just a scratch.”

Michael’s heart hammered frantically in his ribs as Ryan’s hand slid over his stomach and down to his belt. He shuddered, unsure of what the fuck he was supposed to do. Ryan leaned down, pressing the mask against the side of Michael’s head.

“I think you deserve a reward,” he whispered, “Would you like me to reward you for being such a good boy?”

Michael’s shirt dropped as a filthy moan launched out of his mouth. 

“Y-Yes!” He squeaked.

Ryan clicked his tongue.

“Ye-Yes, sir!” Michael corrected quickly.

The elevator dinged and he jumped in surprise. Ryan gripped his belt tightly and dragged him from the elevator into an apartment. Michael stumbled a bit, trying to keep up with him. Ryan shoved him in a bedroom and locked the door behind him.

“Clothes,” he ordered shortly.

Michael was pretty quick to obey, shrugging his way out of his torn and dirty clothes. 

“Sit.”

Ryan pointed at the bed and Michael dropped to it.

“Whoa, your bed is nice,” he groaned, “Can I live in your bed?”

Ryan made a pained sort of sound as he started pulling off his own clothes.

“I would fucking _love_ that,” he grunted.

Michael watched him carefully as he dropped his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head. Michael’s eyes drank in the man’s torso. He’d touched it before, but he’d never seen it. It was covered in scars. He was too far across the room for Michael to distinguish what kind, but there seemed to be at least a few gunshot and knife wounds. Pretty standard for their business. Michael’s own body was practically a Jackson Pollock of scars as well. So why did he find Ryan’s so beautiful??

Michael blinked and the room was pitch black. He jumped in surprise. Why was it so dark all of a sudden? He wrapped his arms around himself. He felt alone.

“R-Ry?” He called out, shaky.

He jumped a bit when Ryan’s hands slid up his thighs. He gasped as Ryan’s soft lips kissed his inner thigh. 

“R-Ry?” He repeated, “Wh-What are you doing??”

“Take a guess.”

Michael shuddered as his mouth puffed a hot breath over his dick. Was Ryan going to-?? His shock jumped tenfold as Ryan’s tongue licked up his shaft. He moaned, leaning back and grabbing fistfuls of Ryan’s bedspread. Ryan’s tongue swirled around the head of his dick, swiping up the precum there. He opened his mouth fully and sank down on Michael who jerked in surprise. 

Ryan’s tongue curled under him as he pressed forward. Michael panted as his dick hit the back of Ryan’s throat, which spasmed around him as he stopped his gag reflex. Ryan had control of his fucking gag reflex and that simultaneously pissed Michael off and made him moan loudly. Ryan’s teeth pressed gently to his dick, sending a shiver up his spine. Then he was moving, his hand wrapping around him as he bobbed up and down. Michael’s arms shook fiercely as he gripped the sheets, his body begging him to grab Ryan’s head and shove him down. 

“Ry! Ry, I’m going to!” He whined out urgently.

Ryan hummed around him and Michael shouted as he came. He shuddered as he emptied into the man’s mouth and throat. Then he dropped backwards, trying to catch his breath. Ryan moved away from him.

“That’s as disgusting as I remember it,” He grumbled as he shuffled around.

Michael laughed breathlessly and dropped his hands to his face. _Jesus Christ, he’s going to be the death of me._ A light turned on and he propped himself up to see Ryan had entered a bathroom. The angle made it impossible to actually see if it was a bathroom, but it was the most logical explanation. He heard the sound of a fist going through drywall and sighed, sliding out of Ryan’s bed. He could hear Ryan’s panting and moaning as he got closer. He scowled, shoving the door open. Ryan jumped a bit, but Michael pointedly did not look at his face.

“Are you jacking off when I’m literally like ten feet from you?!” He demanded, annoyed.

“I’m not suppose to fuck you,” he mumbled, voice strained, “Geoff ordered me not to.”

Michael rolled his eyes and walked up behind Ryan.

“You follow every order he gives you?” Michael grunted.

“Yes.”

Michael didn’t like that, for some reason. It sent a wave of anger through him, but he couldn’t tell why. He rubbed his hands over Ryan’s waist and down his torso to his dick. Ryan shuddered as Michael’s hand wrapped around him.

“M-Michael!” He hissed.

“Shut up.”

He did and Michael resumed jerking him off while he panted harshly and swayed. Tiny, breathless moans poured from him and Michael thought they must hold the key to shortening his own cooldown time. Warmth spread through him and he pressed closer to Ryan’s back, kissing over his shoulders. He was so distracted by Ryan’s noises and how his body felt against him that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Ryan cried out his name and came. Michael fumbled with toilet paper to clean him up while Ryan tried to get his breath back.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered breathlessly, “You’re gonna kill me.”

Michael laughed, his head dropping to Ryan’s back. 

“Yeah, probably.”


	18. Chapter 18

Michael rubbed his temples and groaned. He hadn’t been clothes shopping in so long, everything seemed so different. He couldn’t wear the set of borrowed clothes from Ryan forever and he couldn’t go back to his apartment, so his only choice was to finally bite the bullet and buy some clothes. He flipped through the jeans, trying to remember if he’d ever figured out his new size. 

Seven years and he was still skinny. Maybe if he actually took care of his body, he’d get back to a decent weight. But that would require self-preservation, which he did not have. He finally just checked the borrowed jeans and chose a size a few inches down.

About half an hour later, he finally left, immediately finding a bench to take his old shoes off and put on the boots he’d bought. Felt nice to be in proper footwear. Now he needed to figure out what the fuck he was going to do. 

Los Santos was big, but not that big. He couldn’t just hideout, they’d find him eventually. Didn’t help that he really didn’t have anywhere to go. Not anywhere without someone treating him like a child or a toy. He was a bit worried what havoc the guys after him might cause if he just disappeared too. He didn’t want anyone in LS getting fucked because of him. His eyes widened.

“Fucked,” he muttered, covering his mouth.

A dozen sloppy amateurs could’ve overwhelmed him in sheer number. They only carried knives and bats and they only went for his face when they were desperate. They weren’t trying to kill him, they were kidnapping him for someone who liked his face. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. Out of town. Counterfeit money. Liked his face. He knew who it was. He wanted to throw up.

Charlie had been a scout, hadn’t he? He didn’t think they ran together any more, but apparently they did. So he saw how bad Michael fucked up Charlie and decided to wait to make sure he was ready to attack properly. He’d never expected Michael to have a capable ally with him. No wonder his men didn’t attack immediately: they were surprised. It was supposed to be just him they cornered after the match. But Ryan had cornered him first.

Michael suddenly felt someone’s eyes on him and he shivered again. He should’ve bought a hoodie or something. He carefully glanced around for the eyes and found the first set across the street. He shifted, sitting up to stretch his back. He twisted as though to pop it and saw the second set hovering near the store he’d just come out of. He twisted the other way to find number three down the busy sidewalk, sitting on a bench similar to the one Michael was on. 

He scooped up the new backpack and slung it over his shoulders. He traced the city map in his head, trying to remember the best way out. He’d left the stolen car in a parking lot about three blocks away. He looked both ways down the street before jogging across. They were following, too obviously. 

Michael remembered suddenly why he’d chosen this street: he was familiar with it. Ms. Jenkins’ daughter ran an antique type store that was a few doors down from the clothing outlet. If he went through her back door, he could give them the slip and get to the car. He pushed open the door, the little bell jingling as it bounced.

“Hello! Welc-203!” Baby Jenkins greeted cheerfully, “Long time no see you fucking tool!”

He stuck his tongue out as he moved up to the counter. 

“Let me guess, my mom sent you?” She sighed.

“Nope, worse than that,” Michael assured her, “I’m in trouble. Can I go out your back door?”

“Sure, you need a care package?” She offered.

He glanced to the door, worry eating at his stomach.

“If it won’t take too long,” he finally answered, “I’ve got flies.”

She reached under the counter and pulled out a leather knapsack looking bag. He quickly shoved the clothes in it and handed over his backpack.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” he muttered, “I’ll pay you back when I can.”

“Take that too,” she ordered, pointing behind him, “You look like you’re freezing.”

He took the jacket gratefully and hightailed it out the back door. Okay, right one block, left two. He glanced around the alleyway’s corner and hurried off towards the car. Should’ve taken out the gun he lamented as he walked as quickly as he could without drawing too much attention. 

As he got close enough to see the stolen car, he could also see that there was an ambush waiting for him. _Of course. Shit. Okay, new plan, new plan,_ he thought frantically. _I wish Ryan were here, he always triggers a new idea. I shouldn’t have left his place._ He buried his face in his hands, embarrassed that he even thought it. He froze suddenly. _Face._

He dropped his hands, grinning. That’s right! They weren’t allowed to hurt his face. Not allowed to kill him. By extension, they had to protect him from outside harm as well. Or else face the wrath of their boss. He yanked around the care package to pull out the gun. He wondered if these guys knew he was a fucking psycho. 

“Hey, guys!” He called cheerfully, “I don’t suppose you could all fuck off?”

They immediately drew weapons and he followed suit. He pressed the muzzle against his temple. He grinned as they all faltered. 

“Here’s the deal, friends,” he continued, “I have no intention of going with you alive. I will fucking kill myself rather than be captured, so I’m going to _very fucking politely_ ask you to drop your weapons and fuck off.”

They hesitated, looking unsure if he was bluffing. He pointed the gun at one of them and fired, killing them. He pressed it back to his temple. They dropped their weapons.

“See, was that so hard?” He chirped.

He got in the car with only minor difficulty and leaned out the window.

“And don’t follow,” he warned, “Or you’ll see just how far my fucking brains will splatter.”

He laughed manically as he peeled out. 

~

Michael hissed as his bruised elbow was grabbed and mule kicked the grabber. They caught his foot and yanked, sending him to the ground. He landed on his palms, grunting and kicked his other foot into the guy’s arm. To his surprise, the guy’s arm cracked and he howled, stumbling away. 

Michael quickly got his feet back under him and spun, hooking the guy’s ankle as he tried to retreat. He pushed his boot into the small of the guy’s back and leaned down a bit. The guy huffed in pain and threw his uninjured hand up in surrender.

“Alright, fucko,” Michael growled, “Why you after me? Let’s make this quick before I get bored.”

He pressed more weight on the guy as he leaned a bit closer.

“You don’t want me to get bored,” he added coldly.

Great. Now he was the Vagabond’s mini me. 

“There’s a bounty!” The guy quickly answered, “10k for anyone who brings you in alive!”

“Who’s the client?” Michael pressed, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“I don’t know, some out of town guy!” He insisted, “The name on it was just Thomas.”

Michael almost threw up. He rubbed at his tired eyes. Fucking great. So he had a rapist on his tail who wasn’t above sending bounty hunters. The last 24 hours was extremely lame, to put it mildly. He pulled away from the guy and got out his barely used pack of cigarettes. Well, this was not boding well for him at all. He walked from the alley as he smoked, thinking. 

He knew his best plan was to get captured. Tear the guy to shreds when he tried to get his dick in him and then he’d be done. But well, he really didn’t want to do that. He’d run the risk of the guy actually getting his dick in him. Michael knew he was strong, knew he could fight pretty well, but he also knew that these assholes had a tendency to make him go fuzzy as he remembered the past.

But he didn’t really have another choice, did he? He could try to run and hide forever, but he wanted that even less than he wanted Tommy’s dick in him. No, if he was going to be free of the man, he had to try to eliminate him. Michael just needed to hope he could fight off the fog enough to get the upper hand. He flicked his cigarette butt and looked up at the night sky. He could do it. He just needed to get angry enough to pull himself out. And anger was his specialty.


	19. Chapter 19

“Mikey! I’m so delighted to see you again!”

Michael didn’t open his eyes.

“Don’t call me that,” he grunted.

“Aww, such a spoilsport you are!”

Tommy’s voice was as sickly sweet as Michael remembered.

“I wonder why,” he muttered, “What possible fucking reason would I have for spoiling your shitty fun.”

“Tsk! Always with the mouth,” Tommy cooed, “I suppose we’ll have to start all over again, won’t we?”

_We._ Michael’s heart sank. _They’re all here._

“Probably,” Michael mumbled tiredly, “But I imagine you have a fucking villain monologue to preform.”

“Hm, I suppose,” Tommy answered thoughtfully, “To be honest, I was very annoyed with you. I don’t like hearing that you’ve become someone’s pet. More frustrating is this Vagabond character appeared very capable. He’s quite the bodyguard, isn’t he?”

Michael’s face twisted into a scowl.

“He’s not my bodyguard,” he grunted, “And I’m not his fucking pet.”

“Dear me, then why was he so forceful with Charlie?” 

Michael’s jaw clenched.

“You think _he_ killed Charlie,” he stated tightly.

“Well, of course, you’re hardly capable of such a feat yourself.”

Michael’s blood was on fire.

“And I suppose he killed all twelve of your men?” He suggested.

“He’d hardly be a very good protector if he’d just let you get carried off.”

“And the car at the military base, all him, right?” He growled.

“I imagine so, you’re not exactly a mastermind.”

Michael let out a bark of humorless laughter and dropped his head to point up at the ceiling. He was careful not to open eyes as his chest burned with anger. So that was it then. No one thought he could do shit. After all he accomplished, they all still thought he was a weak little whore. He squeezed his eyes tighter, annoyed by the stinging there. He heard Tommy stepping forward and his jaw set. They all still thought he was a weak little bitch.

_I’ll show you a bitch._

As soon as he was close enough, Michael’s foot snapped up into his nuts and he awkwardly leapt up. He swung the chair he was tied to around, smashing it in to Tommy and breaking it to pieces. He bent and quickly jumped over his cuffed hands. 

He ducked, avoiding the swing aimed at his head and shoved his cuffed fists forward blindly. They landed on Tommy’s stomach, winding him as he bowed over. He grabbed Michael around the middle to lift him up. Michael grunted as his feet left the ground and he was tossed over Tommy’s shoulder in a fireman carry. He forgot how big Tommy was. They were moving forward and Michael flailed.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, Mikey,” the man scolded. 

“Yeah, I definitely will,” Michael agreed, “But not without hurting you first.”

He grabbed the back of Tommy’s shirt and pushed his legs up and over to break the guy’s hold. Tommy grunted as Michael’s feet arced over them and slammed on the ground. Michael heaved, sending Tommy over him and ducked to the side when the man tried to get his legs locked around his neck. 

He rolled, hopping to his feet to slam a heel into his guts. Tommy wheezed painfully and seized his ankle, twisting it. Michael let out a shout of pain and fell over him. He immediately tried to push away, shoving his foot against the guy to spring forward. Tommy yanked him back and grabbed Michael’s bruised thigh with his free hand. 

“Fucking shitballs!” Michael hissed, “Always with the fucking bruises!”

Tommy was pulling himself up, releasing Michael’s ankle. Michael snapped his legs closed around the guy’s waist, locking his ankles together. He shivered as Tommy pressed close, the familiar outline of his cock pushed up against Michael’s ass. His mind was going fuzzy. _No no no! You still have the high ground!_ He grunted and squeezed harder. Tommy was trying to claw his legs off now, but Michael held tightly.

“Let go of me!” Tommy snapped.

Michael almost immediately obeyed. A fact that sent a surge of anger and sadness through him. _No._ He wouldn’t obey any more. He rolled, shoving Tommy to the side and slamming his fists down on his head. His aim was off, what with the closed eyes and all, and he ended up smashing against his shoulder. He wheezed as Tommy sent a fist to his guts and his legs let go.

Tommy shifted, possibly to punch him again, but Michael awkwardly launched himself up and over onto his back. He looped the cuffs around his neck and pulled, pushing his knee into Tommy’s back to put more force behind it. Tommy wheezed, going limp and Michael waited until he was totally sure the guy was dead before he dropped him. He opened his eyes to check his pulse to be sure and sighed heavily with relief. It was too bad he didn’t get to torture the guy. He stared at the back of the guy’s head for awhile. He pressed his palms into his eyelids. _How am I supposed to feel?_

Michael stood up and ambled to the door. He puffed out some calming breaths before knocking on it and standing to the side. The guard noticed Tommy’s body and whipped out his gun, which Michael rewarded him for by seizing it and sending a foot to his guts. The guy doubled over in pain, releasing the gun and Michael kneed him in the face before slamming his fists on the back of his head. 

He yanked the guy’s unconscious body into the room before stepping into the hallway. He traced the layout of the building in his head as he jogged down the hall. He dropped a few guards before he reached the exit, but they all really sucked at their jobs. Once outside, he looked around for a parking lot, but froze as he saw a familiar face.

Well, a familiar mask.

Cool as you please, there Ryan was, sitting on his bike at the front gate, as though they’d planned it. The guards on the gate were knocked out or killed already, so Michael walked calmly towards him. He shivered a bit, wishing he’d tried to look for his clothes on his way out. Michael stopped in front of Ryan whose blue eyes looked down his nearly naked form. 

“Need a ride?” He offered, eyes alight with amusement.

“There’s more,” Michael stated, “I have more people to kill.”

Ryan looked like he was searching his eyes for something.

“Then you _do_ need a ride?” 

Michael didn’t say anything, just climbed on the back and held onto Ryan’s waist as they left. 

~

“Michael?”

Michael blinked himself back and looked at Ryan crouching in front of him. It was so bizarrely similar to after he killed Charlie that he wanted to knock himself out. 

“You need anything?” Ryan prompted.

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes and placed his fingers over the back of the mask. 

“May I?”

“Yes.”

He dropped the mask on the floor next to Ryan and moved his hands to Ryan’s face to guide them together. As they mouthed against each other, Michael’s arms wrapped around his neck and Ryan’s wrapped around his waist. It was so calm Michael wondered what was going to ruin it. 

Geoff, turned out to be the answer. He busted in Ryan’s door, startling them, but rather than letting Ryan get away again, Michael kissed down his jaw to his neck. He pressed sloppy, wet kisses there as Ryan struggled between pulling away and pushing him down.

“Ryan! What the fuck did I tell you?!” Geoff demanded.

Michael’s hands ran down his torso.

“Uh, can you be more specific?” Ryan muttered.

Michael nipped at his neck.

“I said no fucking Mogar!” Geoff shouted.

Michael tugged free his shirt from his pants to push his palms up it.

“You, uh, say a lot of things,” He mumbled.

He hissed as Michael pinched his nipple and Michael wrapped his legs around him.

“You know what you are, Haywood?!”

Michael pushed his hands around to Ryan’s back and bit up his jaw to his ear.

“P-pig?” He guessed breathlessly.

Michael raked his fingernails down his back and he grunted, falling forward. One hand was still holding Michael to him, but the other landed on the back of the couch as he tried to keep himself propped up.

“G-Geoff, I’d suggest you l-leave before you get-ah, fucking christ,” Ryan hissed, “I’m a-about to f-fuck him a-against this couch, g-get the f-fuck out.”

“Ryan, I order you to push him away and get up.”

Ryan noticeably stiffened. There was a pause of tense silence.

“Yes, sir,” he bit out through his teeth.

He pulled Michael’s hands and legs off of him and Michael scowled, trying to keep a hold of him.

“Let go,” He ordered tightly, “I don’t want to hurt you over this.”

Michael retracted his limbs, his heart hammering in his chest as Ryan pulled away. Michael curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his torso, shivering. He was alone again. He flinched as something was put around his shoulders. _Ryan’s jacket._ He pulled it close to himself as he listened to them walking away.

“Ryan, I’m serious,” Geoff grunted, “You need to leave him alone.”

Michael frowned at his lap. They knew he could still hear them, right?

“Are you actually going to tell me why?” Ryan asked coldly.

Geoff sighed.

“Originally, it really was because I didn’t want you pressuring him,” He explained, sounding tired, “And then I worried we wouldn’t be able to recruit him. But I eventually realized I knew the kid.”

_ He remembered? _

“Ry, the guys after him,” he went on, “We can’t get involved.”

“I’m not getting involved with them,” Ryan pointed out.

“If you’re involved with _him,_ then you’re involved with _them,”_ Geoff insisted firmly, “It might already be too late to try to withdraw from him.”

_ Ah. Geoff’s being a leader. Trying to protect Ryan. _

“If that’s how it is, then that’s how it is,” Ryan answered, “I can defend myself if I have to.”

“Not from these guys,” Geoff argued, “You don’t understand what they could do.”

“I don’t care!” Ryan growled, “I don’t give a fuck what they do to me! If I’m hurt or I die, it doesn’t fucking matter!”

“You can’t risk yourself to protect him!” Geoff snapped, “I’m not going to let you be a meat shield!”

“I’m not being a shield!” Ryan shouted, “He’s never used me as a shield, ever! Can you say the same?!”

There was a brief stunned silence.

“That’s low, Ry,” Geoff muttered coldly.

“Is it?!” Ryan snarled back, “Is it as low as ordering me to stay away from the man I love because you know I can’t refuse an order?!”

Michael’s eyes went wide. _Love? Ryan loves me?_

“I’m trying to protect you!” Geoff growled, “You know I don’t use that shit unless it’s important!”

“And I wouldn’t argue an order unless it was important!” Ryan countered, “Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?! Would you easily follow an order that would take you away from Jack?”

“I-that’s not the same!” Geoff argued, “You’ve known him what a few months?!”

“It’s been nearly a year,” Ryan grunted, “Thanks for fucking paying attention.”

“Nearly a year of what?” Geoff snapped, “You harassing him while he tells you to fuck off?”

“I don’t harass him!” Ryan protested, “It-it’s not the same with him! We...it’s not harassment!”

“How many times have you hurt him?” Geoff asked quietly.

“I...never said we have a healthy relationship,” Ryan muttered bitterly, “But that doesn’t stop that I’m going to be with him no matter what.”

“What makes you think he wants you?” Geoff sneered, “Hasn’t he told you many times you’re not special to him?”

Michael’s heart clenched. That was...true. He had said that many times. But now, now he was. Michael didn’t know why or when or how it happened, he just was now. He was special to him. He didn’t want to lose him.

“Geoff you’re being a fucking tool!” Michael snapped before he could stop himself, “It’s none of your fucking business what Ryan chooses to do, even if he is being a fucking dumbass.”

There was another brief moment of stunned silence.

“Geoff you didn’t close the door all the way!” Ryan hissed, “Soundproofing doesn’t fucking work if you don’t close it the whole way!”

There was a small click, presumably the door closing fully and Michael shook his head. _Idiots._ Every single one of them.


	20. Chapter 20

“Okay, anything else?” Michael asked tiredly.

“Sorry, no,” Adam answered, “That’s all we have.”

“Alright, thanks,” Michael muttered with a sigh, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yup, see ya.”

Michael hung up the phone and dropped it to the table. He rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. _Three days._ Three fucking days and all he had was confirmation that at least one more of them was in LS. He looked up at the wall where pictures of the remaining three were taped up. 

Benny was the one in town, that was all he had. Benny’s specialty was drugs. Logically, this would mean he should try sniffing out anything new on the market, but most of his contacts were light on drugs because he did his best to stay as far away from them as possible. Because of Benny.

Vic was the only one Michael dealt with on a regular basis who had a hand deep in the drug biz. Vic also cut all contact with him after the Vagabond incident. _The coward._ Which meant he’d have to actually go out and track him down. Which in turn meant he’d have to step into drug territory. As stated, he did not want to do that. 

He hadn’t wanted to see Tommy either, but he’d done it and he’d come out on top for it. He could do it. He just really didn’t want to. Michael drank more coffee as he debated his best tactics. 

He’d barely slept at all the past three days. He was grateful to be back in his own apartment, but he was lonely now. He didn’t think he was lonely before Ryan, but now it felt like any time they weren’t together was oppressively lonely. It was the worst feeling. It infuriated him. Why the fuck did it have to be _him?_

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

He sighed as he got to his feet and grabbed his gun. Hopefully it wasn’t anyone looking to kill him, but the odds of that were rather low. He peeked through the peephole at two cops. He squinted, looking closer. _No, two people in cop uniforms._ Their belts were void of batons, cuffs, or proper holsters with service weapons. They probably just had a personal gun tucked into the back of their pants. 

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

Michael wondered what their plan was and who sent them. Were they Benny’s thugs? Was there a new bounty? Was it possible this was an unrelated incident? _Hm._ He opened the door as they raised a hand to knock again. 

“Hi there!” One chirped cheerfully, “Sorry to disturb you, but we’re looking for someone who supposedly lives here.”

They pulled out a picture and Michael had to lean in and squint to recognize the person. Ms. Jenkins. He paused, humming thoughtfully. Then shook his head.

“I don’t think they live here,” he muttered, “I don’t recognize them at all.”

“You’re sure?” The cheery one pressed.

Michael took the picture and pulled it closer to his face. 

“Yeah, I don’t know them,” he confirmed, handing it back, “You might have the wrong building. We get mistaken for Longview Heights a lot, maybe that’s where they are?”

They thanked him for his help and left the building. He watched them get in their car and leave before he went to warn Ms. Jenkins. He knocked loudly, in case she was asleep, and smiled at the peephole. She was quicker than usual, opening all seven locks in record time.

“Hello, 203,” she greeted, “What can I do for you?”

“Hey, 205,” he returned, “Just thought you should know two people impersonating cops just asked me if I’ve seen you. I sent them off, but I’m not sure how long it’ll take for them to realize I lied.”

Ms. Jenkins sighed. 

“203, dear, do you think you’re in a mood to be a bodyguard?” She asked, tone heavy with exhaustion.

“Sure, I can help no problem,” he assured her, “Tell me what you need me to do.”

She smiled gently and waved him inside. Michael felt happy to help her whenever she needed him to. It was weirdly nice to help people. He was basically a merc and an extremely violent one at that, yet he always felt warm when he helped out someone who deserved it. He wondered when that happened and a flash of a tattooed hand reaching out to him in his mind made him realize.

How ironic that the guy who inspired Michael to help people was the one most actively trying to push Michael away. Michael ran his thumb over the fingers that had gripped Geoff’s wrist. It hurt, he realized. It hurt that they didn’t want him around any more. Michael clenched his fist as he remembered Geoff crouching down in front of him. Shirtless in the rain, but he still bothered to stop. 

_Shirtless. In the rain. Voice rough._ Michael paled as he suddenly realized why he was there. Realized why he didn’t want Ryan involved. Realized why he’d been so harsh on Ryan for the unprofessional first meeting. Why he’d been so friendly towards him. He covered his face and sighed. Geoff really was amazing, wasn’t he? 

“203, you alright?” Ms. Jenkins’ voice called out.

He jumped in surprise, having forgotten where he was a moment. She reached out and patted his arm comfortingly.

“Right, sorry,” he muttered, “I just had an epiphany that I sort of wished I didn’t.”

“We’ve all been there,” she joked, “Well, you ready to hear the plan?”

“Definitely.”

~

_ Where are you? _

Michael sighed at the text message. It was Ryan, obviously. He hadn’t given anyone else his number. He looked back out Ms. Jenkins’ window at the parking lot. He probably shouldn’t respond. Ryan was supposed to leave him alone. For safety or whatever. Now that he understood Geoff’s reason for trying to push him away, he didn’t want to encourage Ryan to keep talking to him. Someone moved in the parking lot and he adjusted the scope, squinting through it to see. 

“I got a bogey, 205,” he called, “I don’t think it’s the ones from before.”

She came over to take the scope and look for herself. 

“Ah, that one is for you,” she said, handing back the scope, “I believe that’s the Vagabond. If my sight hasn’t totally gone.”

“Goddamnit,” he muttered, looking through the scope.

They got much closer and Michael definitely recognized the mask. But there was something off. Anxiety gnawed at his guts. _It’s not him._ Legs were too short, too skinny, and the jacket wasn’t quite right. The closer they got, the more wrong he saw. Their legs weren’t just shorter, they were shorter. Their body was too thin. They walked wrong, strides not wide or confident enough. As they opened the door and disappeared from his sight he also noted that their hair was light brown.

Michael pulled his phone back out to text Ryan back.

_Are you asking for a booty call or because someone pretending to be you is in my apartment building?_

He considered his options as he waited for a response. They’d knock on his door, probably. Possibly break in when he didn’t answer. His eyes were drawn to movement in the parking lot. _Ah, shit._ The fake cops were back.

“Got your flies, 205,” he called, adjusting to look at them.

Their body language was oozing anger. He wondered if they’d knock on his door first. His phone lit up with a message.

_Coming._

_So a booty call then._

He hopped from Ms. Jenkins’ window to join her in the living room. Just as he hit the end of the hall, someone knocked on the door. Shit, fake Vagabond had gone to 205 to look for him. Whether by accident or because they didn’t find him in 203, he wasn’t sure. 

“Shit,” he muttered.

“My thoughts exactly,” Ms. Jenkins’ agreed, “Shall I see if I can get them to exit?”

“Your flies are probably going to show up any second,” he pointed out, “I think our plan just went down the drain. Got a plan B?”

She smiled at him as the three thugs were greeting each other. He grinned back at her.

“205, you look like you just had a bad idea,” he laughed.

“I’m pretty good at those, 203.”


	21. Chapter 21

Michael watched carefully as Ryan lifted the imposter’s mask. He didn’t seem to recognize them. Michael bent down lower to look himself and flinched in surprise. 

“Holy shit, it’s the little raven!” Michael exclaimed, eyes wide, “This is the one that fucked up that theft job with the bus locker!”

“Really? That would be a very unusual coincidence,” Ryan muttered.

“No kidding,” Michael agreed, “No way this is a fucking coincidence. Especially since they’re impersonating you. Fuck, how much does he know?!”

Michael felt himself starting to panic and he tried to swallow down the nausea plaguing him.

“Who?” Ryan prompted, “You know who sent them?”

Michael looked up at him, almost having forgotten Ryan wasn’t on the case with him. 

“Uh, I have a theory,” he mumbled, “But that’s not your fuckin business.”

Ryan’s eyes flashed with anger, sending a shiver down Michael’s spine.

“It is when they’re wearing my fucking face!” He snapped, “I have a right to know who’s out here pretending to be me!”

“It was only this once,” Michael pointed out, “And it was to fool me, not fuck with you, so fuck off with that shit.”

Ryan seized his shirt and yanked him towards him until the mask was nearly touching Michael’s face.

“Do you think I won’t toss you through a fucking wall?” He growled.

“You won’t,” Michael answered, “Because you love me.”

Ryan’s eyes went wide behind the mask. Ah, ha, just as Michael suspected, he hadn’t realized what he’d accidentally revealed. Michael tilted his head and pressed a kiss to the mask.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Ryan looked conflicted, his eyes searching Michael’s for something. He released his shirt with an annoyed grunt and looked back to the body.

“You’re sure this is just to try to trick you?” He questioned.

“Yes, I don’t think it will happen again,” Michael assured him, “And if it does, they’ll once again only be coming for me.”

Ryan hesitated, but finally stood up with a sigh. 

“Fine,” he relented, “Tell me if the situation escalates past you.”

Michael stood and nodded. Ryan was going to leave now. He wrapped his arms around himself.

“S-see you later, I guess,” he mumbled.

Ryan grabbed him into a hug and squeezed him tightly. 

“I...wish I could stay,” he whispered, “But Geoff-“

“I know,” Michael interrupted, “It’s okay. Don’t be too mad at him. He has his reasons.”

Ryan squeezed him again before letting go and Michael pressed another kiss to the mask.

“Trust your Commander, soldier,” he teased, grinning.

Ryan’s eyes crinkled up and a short chuckle was muffled by the mask. 

“Don’t take too long, Commander,” he countered.

He brushed a gloved hand over Michael’s cheek, affection clear in his eyes. Michael’s heart pounded. _He really does love me. Fucking why?!_

~

After he convinced Ms. Jenkins to stay home and possibly call her daughter, Michael got rid of the bodies and drove to the bar Vic frequented last time they’d spoke. Place was a shithole, the kind you can only get vodka, whiskey, and beer in. Unless you go out back, in which case you can find half a dozen dealers selling just about everything. 

Vic was at the bar when Michael walked in. A stroke of luck on his side for once. The place was a haze of smoke that made Michael tighten the covering over his mouth and nose. He really didn’t want to get second hand whatever the shady guy in the corner was puffing on.

“Hey, Vic,” he greeted as he reached him.

Vic squinted at him.

“Liberty, that you?” He muttered.

“I’m not Liberty, dickbag,” Michael growled.

“Yup, that’s definitely you,” Vic laughed, “The fuck you doin here? Thought you were dead or dying via Vagabond?”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Surprisingly, doesn’t kill everyone who’s a smartass too him,” he scoffed, “He’s definitely tossed me around a few times though. It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m here because I need info.”

Vic’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

“From me?” He asked incredulously, “You’re asking the wrong man.”

“You’re the only person I know,” Michael grumbled, “I have no other drug-related contacts. I need to know if there’s someone new in town.”

Vic clicked his tongue and Michael pulled out a hundred.

“Benny, blonde with a penchant for suits,” Vic answered, “Apparently his shit is crazy good. He’s on all the major ones except weed.”

“Any idea where I can find him?” Michael pressed, pulling out another hundred for him.

“He works out of the docks,” Vic continued, “But I heard he’s got a real classy apartment over in the rich neighborhood. Uh, Marble something?”

Michaels stomach sank and his heart rate went up. _Oh boy._

“Marble Towers?” Michael guessed, voice tight.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Vic confirmed, “That’s all I know, man.”

Michael said goodbye and left stiffly and quickly walking to his car. He pulled down the mask, gasping as he tried not to panic. _Marble Towers. That’s where Ryan lives._


	22. Chapter 22

Michael paced back and forth next to his car while smoking in short, anxious breaths. Geoff had agreed to meet, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be a pleasant time. Michael had definitely been an asshole last time. Plus Michael had called in Ryan even after his clear order against it. But Geoff could be reasonable. _Maybe._ Honestly he wouldn’t blame him if he wasn’t reasonable.

As a van peeled into the lot, he considered maybe he should’ve checked that Jack wouldn’t be coming. The van spun in a circle and stopped with only an inch of space between its back end and Michael’s hip. _This isn’t Jack,_ he realized. No way in hell she’d try to scare him like that. She’d have come at him head on if she was going for a scare. 

He immediately leapt over his own trunk, sliding to the other side and whipping out his gun. He shot the first two that popped out quickly and easily. He ducked his head as the passenger leveled a gun at him. His eyes ended up tracking the projectile. It wasn’t a bullet. It was a dart. 

“Shit my fucking dick off, it _is_ him!” Michael growled.

Good thing about tranq guns? Long reload. He popped up and fired at the passenger as another from the back made it around to his side of his car. He ducked back down as a bat swung at his head. It smashed into his back window, much to his annoyance. He growled as he kicked out the fucker’s leg and slammed an elbow in their face. To his surprise, there was a loud snapping sound in their ankle and they howled in pain.

“You fucking shit!” He snarled, grabbing the bat from them, “You broke my fucking window, assbag!”

He jabbed the pommel in their face and whipped his gun around on the driver who had finally joined the fight. They managed to pin his wrist and he got a hook to the face. He grunted, his ear ringing. The bat wielder had a hold of the bat again, trying to yank it from his grasp. 

He launched into them, dropping his weight on them while sending his foot into the driver. He leveled his gun at them and fired before whipping it around to the bat wielder and firing into their guts. 

He carefully got back into a crouch to peek through his broken window. He puffed out a sigh of relief that the tranq gun was indeed down. He slid himself up the car, double-checking for more goons before he turned back to the shitfuck that had broken his window. He flipped the bat in his hand, catching it by the grip. He tucked away his gun and pointed the bat at the man’s face. Before he could begin, he heard another vehicle enter the parking lot. This time a sleek black car with green on the rims. 

“Ah, it’s my actual date,” Michael commented casually, “The one you were trying to crash, fuckhead.”

“F-fuck your d-date!” The guy hissed, as they stopped, “Be-Benny’s gonna d-destroy them too!”

Michael flashed an angry look at the pathetic mess as Geoff and Jack exited their car.

“Quiet in front of your King and Queen, you fucking peasant,” he growled.

“Mogar, I apologize for being late,” Jack called out as they halted a few feet from him, “We had a bit of a delay.”

“Well, what’s that saying?” Michael joked, “Queens are never late. Everyone else is simply early, Your Majesty.”

He gave a sweeping bow and Jack laughed. 

“Wh-what the f-fuck?!” The peasant muttered, “Y-you’re all-“

Michael swung the bat into the guy’s jaw.

“I said quiet in front of your King and Queen!” He snarled, “Peasants speak when spoken to!”

The guy whimpered and Michael turned back to Geoff and Jack. He balanced the bat on his shoulder.

“Alright, sorry about that,” he muttered, “Anyway, I called you here because of-“

He hesitated, glancing at the mass of flesh at his feet.

“Vagabond,” he continued, “There has been a bit of a bad turn in my situation.”

“And I suppose you want assistance?” Geoff cut in tiredly.

“Fuck no,” Michael grunted, “No, I’ve just found out my target has an apartment _very_ fucking close to a place of interest to the Vagabond.”

Geoff pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And why are you telling me?” He questioned, “Why not tell him?”

“I’m trying to respect your wishes, Your Highness,” Michael muttered, “I only contacted him when I found the impersonator.” 

“I forbade _him,_ not you,” Geoff pointed out.

Michael forced himself to look directly in Geoff’s eyes.

“I also remembered where we know each other from,” He stated, firm, but quiet, “And I respect your decision.”

There was a quiet moment as they searched each other’s eyes. Geoff nodded and Michael returned it. 

“Thank you,” Geoff finally said, “For the heads up. The target, what does he look like?”

“Blonde,” Michael answered, “About your size, always wears the tackiest fucking suits. He’s a goddamn drug lord in New Liberty and word is he’s moving in LS really fucking fast. Works from the piers.”

“The piers?” Jack spoke up, scowling, “That’s claimed territory. I haven’t heard shit about newbies down there.”

Geoff hummed, stroking his beard.

“Good info, Mogar,” he commented, “Tit for tat, we’ll let you know if we hear anything.”

“I appreciate it,” Michael murmured.

They shook hands and Michael gave another sweeping bow as they left. Finally, he turned back to the bat wielder and crouched down. They looked pretty terrified. Michael’s blood buzzed with his adrenaline and a surge of feeling fucking powerful. He clicked his tongue.

“You just had to break my window, didn’t you?” He scolded, “That’s bad manners, fucko.”

He pushed the bat into the guy’s chest and pulled out his gun.

“Alright, friend,” he began, “It’s time for you to die.”

The guy whimpered, eyes wide.

“You get two choices,” Michael went on, “The gun and the bat.”

The guy’s eyes darted between them. Michael lifted the gun.

“You tell me where Benny’s lab is,” he explained, “You get the gun.”

He hoisted the bat up.

“You refuse, you get the bat,” he finished.

He dropped the bat against his shoulder and pointed the gun at his face.

“This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back,” He recited, “You take the gun- the story ends, your suffering is over. You take the bat- you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.”

A look of calm came over the man. Michael saw in his eyes the exact moment he realized he was going to die and there was nothing more he could do. How many times had Michael felt the same?

“D-downtown,” the guy croaked, wincing around his damaged jaw, “S-some-something b-bend. Ap-apartment. Em-empty.”

“Abandoned apartment building on South Bend, downtown?” Michael clarified.

“Yes.”

Michael fired and started checking pockets. They had a surprising amount of cash between them. None counterfeit. Michael considered this fact as he gathered their weapons and tossed them in his car. Lots of legit cash, even though Tommy was in town not too long ago? He picked up the dart that had missed him. He rolled it between his fingers. None of Tommy’s goons had had tranqs. Charlie had been completely alone.

“Shit, they’ve made a fucking game,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

So Capture the Whore was their game this round. None of them were working together. Were they playing one-by-one? That would explain why he hadn’t run into any of them at the same time. So far the score was 2 to nil. He was winning, but they only had to win one round to win the game. He had to win all five. 

“Not a very fair scoring system,” he grumbled.

He sighed as he finished hauling the goons into the van. He could use this system to his advantage though. Just because they were going one-by-one, didn’t mean _he_ had to. He set the explosive and got in his car. As he left the parking lot, the van blew to bits and he grinned around the cigarette in his mouth. 

“Game on, shitheads.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Blood consumption and stabbing in the eye.

Michael kept his head low as he waited. Lark was due outside any minute now. Sure enough, he came wobbling out of the bar towards Michael within two minutes. He was whistling to himself, flipping his keys in his hand as he approached his car. To the guy’s credit, he noticed something was wrong almost immediately. When he slid in, he went for his gun, but Michael held it up from the backseat.

“Wh-who the hell are you?!” Lark demanded.

“I usually go by Mogar,” Michael answered, “But word on the street is that name’s hot right now.”

Lark’s eyes went cartoonishly wide at the reveal, something that made Michael laugh.

“What the fuck’s been happenin??” Lark asked, “Some big names after ya, what the fuck’d ya do?”

“Depends who you ask,” Michael replied dryly, “Anyway, I need to cash in that favor you owe me.”

“Sure, man,” Lark agreed immediately, “Ya know I’ve got ya. Unless I could die, then I’m out.”

“First of all, move,” Michael instructed, “You’re too hammered to drive.”

Lark relented easily, sliding to the passenger seat while Michael got in the driver’s and started the car. They pulled out and headed towards downtown.

“So what I need is a blueprint,” Michael began, “You’re the only person I know with a photographic memory of blueprints and the only person I know who knows exactly where to get one you don’t have.”

“Thanks, but it’s a ediluck memory,” Lark corrected, unconcerned that he wasn’t saying a real word, “What address?”

“562 South Bend,” Michael answered, “It’s an abandoned apartment building.”

“I got that one,” Lark informed, waving his hand, “I got all empty ones in DT.”

Lark directed him to his apartment and ushered him into his spare bedroom where there were entirely too many file cabinets. He then pointed out two of them labeled “DT”.

“Great, I’ll figure it out, then,” Michael muttered, “You’re too drunk to be of further use. Go to bed.”

Lark opened his mouth to argue when they heard a knock on the door. He sobered up a bit, shooting a panicked look at Michael. 

“Did someone tail you?!” He demanded in a whisper.

“If they did, they’re invisible!” Michael hissed, “I didn’t see a fucking tail!” 

Michael gave him his weapon back and pulled his own. They walked to the door as someone knocked again. Michael took up position behind the door as Lark looked through the peephole. He flinched.

“Uh, it’s for you,” he muttered, stepping aside.

Michael peeked through and sighed. He stowed his weapon and gestured for Lark to do the same. He opened the door and glared.

“The fuck you doing here, Bane?” He groaned, annoyed.

Vagabond pushed into the apartment and quickly closed and locked the door. He went to the living room window and looked out the curtain. Lark looked at Michael in confusion who just shrugged his shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking ask me, man,” he muttered.

Vagabond rejoined them, pulling a packet out of his jacket and handing it over to Michael. Michael raised an eyebrow.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked, a bit cautious about opening it.

“Tit for tat,” Vagabond answered, moving back to the window.

“This seems hefty for the tit,” Michael muttered.

He opened it and pulled out the stack of papers inside. They were mostly photos of Benny in various locations. One included another man Michael recognized, Freddy. Freddy was grinning while Benny was passing over a wad of cash, looking annoyed. _A bet._ They had some sort of bet on the previous two fights. That left Donny as the last unconfirmed of the five. 

Michael’s hands were shaking. Why were they doing this? Why did they think Michael was so fucking valuable? He was just one raped whore in a fucking sea of filth. He felt phantom pain throbbing up from his ankle, reminding him. He’d forgotten. They’d marked him. Of course they had to retrieve him.

“Mogar?” Lark called softly.

Michael jolted, shaking himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “Anyway, I’ll copy the blueprint. You just go to bed.”

Lark glanced over at Vagabond and sighed. He shrugged and shook Michael’s hand.

“You sure that’s us even?” He asked.

“Yeah, man,” Michael assured him, “This is us even.”

He traipsed off to his bedroom and Michael turned to Ryan.

“Anything else?” He muttered.

Ryan walked over to where Michael was standing near the door. He cupped his face in both hands. Michael blushed and put his free hand over one of Ryan’s.

“You okay?” Ryan asked softly.

“Peaches,” Michael grunted.

They were close enough Michael could see his eyes crinkling up in a smile. He leaned down, bumping the forehead of the mask against Michael’s. Michael smiled back at him and kissed the mask.

“See ya later, handsome,” he teased.

“Not if I see you first,” Ryan laughed.

“Not a hard feat,” Michael pointed out, “I’m practically blind.”

Ryan laughed, breathy and full before he turned to leave. Michael watched from the window as he left. _Okay, back to the grindstone._

~

Michael crept over the branch of the tree, keeping his head on a swivel. The guards were all below, but you never know when someone’s going to look up and see a less than stealthy engineer crawling his way over a fucking tree. Definitely he did not see this coming. Not when he was in trade school, not when he was apprenticing, not even seven years ago when he was freed from these assholes. 

He dropped onto the roof as quietly as he could. He checked that his belt was on firmly and pulled free the appropriate screwdriver. He started opening the vent grate, keeping alert. He recited the directions in his head as he made short work of the grate. _First left, immediate right, drop, left, third on the right._

He put the grate to the side and started to slip into the vent. First order of business was to get his palms against the bottom of the vent. His upper half was plenty long enough to do so. The problem came when his hips ended up stuck in the opening of the vent. 

“Fuck!” He hissed, “My fat ass literally got stuck in a fucking vent!”

_And_ he was curled like a fucking Tetris L block. Okay. Unbuckle the tool belt, slip though it, make sure to keep a hold of it, scrape half the skin off his ass, and get through the damn vent. He carefully reached his hand to his tool belt. After about ten minutes of wiggling, he finally got the tool belt and his pants undone and slipped down into the vent, doing his best to shove his ass against the opening to avoid scraping his dick on it. 

After minimal scraping and almost losing his clothes, he finally got into the fucking vent. He pulled his clothes around his thighs, hoping to keep a hold of them as he wiggled his way forward. _First left, immediate right, drop, left, third on the right._ He got to where the drop should be when he remembered all his lefts and rights needed to be reversed because he was on his back. He paused long enough to cover his face in despair for a few seconds before he tried to remember the blueprints. 

He thought the tree climbing was bad. Now he had his pants off his ass, aching from the awkward way he had to move, lost, and stuck in a fucking vent. He took a few deep breaths before he readjusted the map in his head. Okay, just need to circle back and remember to reverse. He was getting fucking claustrophobic in this shit. 

Now on the correct path, he got to the office without further incident. He fumbled for the cutter around his knees and made quick work of the vent. He basically just dropped from the vent directly on Benny’s desk. He winced and groaned.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise this is,” Benny’s cool voice spoke, “You even pulled your pants down for me.”

Michael groaned again. He must’ve taken twice as long as he anticipated to get his fat ass through the vent.

“No snappy comeback, Mikey?” Benny taunted.

“I’ll let you know when the office supply bukkake gets out of my ass,” Michael grunted, breathless.

Benny’s freezing fingers on his thigh woke him up enough to snap his legs up, trapping his arm between Michael’s legs and torso. He clenched his eyes closed tighter as Benny’s other fist slammed into his ribs. Michael flailed a bit, trying to hook a leg around Benny’s neck and grabbed his trapped arm in both hands. He got the one leg on his shoulder and took what he could get, smashing his thighs together and twisting his wrist. 

Benny chomped down on Michael’s hip, causing him to jolt and hiss in pain. Michael squeezed his thighs tighter and twisted Benny’s wrist worse. Benny just bit harder and sent more punches to Michael’s ribs. Michael was going fuzzy from the bite, he needed to do something to get him to let go. Benny had too high pain tolerance, he was always the hardest to fight hand to hand. _Think, think, think!!_ Michael’s mind was reverting. Don’t remember! 

He was bleeding, Benny’s teeth had broken skin, sinking deeply into his flesh. He could feel Benny’s tongue lapping up the blood pouring from the puncture wounds. Michael’s hands were loosening and he let out a high pitched whine. 

“Pl-please don’t eat me!” He cried.

Benny’s chest vibrated with laughter against him. He always laughed when he drank Michael’s blood. He derived so much pleasure from blindfolding him, restraining him, and drinking his blood when he could do nothing, see nothing. _See nothing. Blindfold._ Michael’s eyes snapped open and he looked down where Benny’s bloody mouth was on his hip. 

“Get off me, you fucking vampire!” Michael snarled, jerking the man’s arm. 

Benny’s mouth let go as his arm dislocated. Michael reared back his legs and smashed both boots into his face, sending him back. He fumbled for his gun while Benny fell and couldn’t find the thing. Couldn’t let himself fall behind. Benny would recover too quickly. He launched haphazardly off the desk, shoving the first thing he got his fingers on directly at his face. 

The pliers smashed right through his eye socket. He ripped them back out as Benny let out an unholy scream of pain and fear. He plunged them back in and the sound cut off. He stabbed him over and over as guards rushed in. He stilled as they entered and turned to them slowly, the pliers still raised in his hand. 

“Fuck no!” One of them hissed.

They rushed back from the room as he started laughing. _I must look like a fucking psycho,_ he mused. He groped at Benny’s neck to check for his pulse, though he was pretty sure he was dead. Now confirmed, he stumbled to his feet and yanked up his jeans over his aching hips. He stared down at Benny with wide eyes, still clutching the pliers. He would never go on a job without them now. 

Benny’s bloody mouth was a jarring sight that he’d never seen before. It was calming, steadying. _I saw you this time fucker._ He tucked his new favorite tool back in his belt and started looking for his gun. It’d dropped off the table at some point. _Fucking useless._ He needed a holster. 

He searched through the desk and Benny’s pockets, looking for information on the remaining two. He paused once in a while to just stare at the frozen scream on Benny’s face. How did he feel? How was he _supposed_ to feel? 

He turned to the window and opened it, letting in fresh air to clear out the oppressive smell of blood. Then he sat on the floor under it and lit a cigarette. The smell of the smoke calmed his shaking somewhat and he leaned his head back on the rough, ugly wall. 

“Three down,” he whispered, “Two to go.”


	24. Chapter 24

_M: Hey, I’m going to be in the apartment building we discussed, tonight. Benny is dead, so I’m going to search his apartment. Just a head’s up._

_G: Vagabond’s going in as well to search for some info. Perhaps you should coordinate efforts?_

_M: As you wish, Your Highness._

So there Michael was, leaning up next to Ryan’s elevator, waiting for him to show. He was a few minutes early, just because he was so nervous. They hadn’t had much alone time together lately and it was pretty consistently not long enough to really say anything. Michael wanted to tell him things, wanted to explain, wanted him to know he really did care about him. 

Not to mention he was so tired and worried about everything, he wished he could afford an hour off to get absolutely fucking _destroyed_ by Ryan’s cock. But unfortunately, Michael didn’t have time for that. Teddy and Donny were no doubt both gearing up as he thought about it. He wondered which one was next. He wondered if he just blew his brains out if he’d be better off for it. He rubbed his eyes tiredly as a familiar motorcycle and rider turned into the parking garage. 

Ryan jogged up to him, immediately taking his face in his hands, looking for damage. 

“Nothing permanent,” he assured him, “What about you? You doing okay?”

Ryan blinked rapidly like wasn’t sure what he was being asked.

“I’m...fine,” he answered slowly.

He backed away as Michael squinted suspiciously at him. They boarded the elevator to Benny’s floor and rode in silence for a few seconds.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Michael pressed, “You were slow on answering.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he assured him, “I was just so...worried I wasn’t expecting the question...”

“Don’t worry about me,” Michael dismissed, “I’m not gonna let these fuckers kill me.”

“I know,” Ryan answered, as the elevator stopped, “But you can still get injured.”

Michael’s heart was hammering in his chest as he realized something. Ryan never once acted like Michael couldn’t handle something. Ryan believed in him. Michael was never a weak little bitch to Ryan. Even if he was Ryan’s little fucktoy, he respected him and believed in his abilities. 

“You’re...an idiot,” he muttered to himself.

Ryan looked up from where he was picking the lock.

“What’d I do now?” He demanded.

Michael laughed and shook his head.

“Not you,” he assured him, “Me. I’m an idiot.”

“That’s true,” Ryan agreed.

“Don’t make me roundhouse your ass,” Michael grunted.

Ryan rolled his eyes and went back to the lock. Michael’s eyes widened as he saw some wear on the door frame. He seized Ryan’s jacket and yanked him backwards, practically throwing him across the tile. He got two steps towards following him when the door blew, sending him sprawling. As he tried to cover his head when he fell, a piece of wooden door lodged itself in his hand. 

“Fucking dicks,” he grunted, pushing himself up.

Ryan grabbed his jacket and hauled him up to his feet. Michael swayed a bit and shook his head, trying to clear out the dust and ringing. He held up his hand to yank out the wood with a hiss. A hand waved in front of his face and he tried to blink himself awake. His hearing cleared a bit as the dust seemed to settle.

“-ome back soon,” Ryan’s voice came through the fog.

“Fucking what?” Michael grunted, shaking his head more, “Goddamn Teddy. I’m gonna bite his fucking dick off.”

He rubbed at his ears, trying to clear the ringing. As his mind came back, he realized they were fucked.

“We need to leave, now!” He shouted frantically, “This place will be fucking swarming with goddamn flies in minutes.”

He looked around for exits. The elevator was out, it’d be booby-trapped to blow after Benny’s apartment triggered. Staircase exit, but it had electronic doors, so it could be trapped too. Windows? He jogged to the window to check its thickness. _Shatter proof. Shit. Okay, okay, okay. Think!_

“Michael?” Ryan called from the other side of the hall, “Is your target a really flashy asshole?”

_Oh no. He came directly?! Shit!_ Michael rushed over to peer down. He couldn’t see what kind of car it was, but he’d have to be actually blind not to see that horrific shade of pink. He shuddered and turned away. _Don’t look at that, look at the problem._ Michael’s brain started warming up. Okay, they needed to get out of the building. This was Ryan’s building.

“Ry, is there an accessible maintenance ladder?” He asked.

He pulled away to get to the door of Benny’s place. 

“Uh, in the elevator shaft? Yeah, I think so,” Ryan answered, following him.

“Block the stairwell while I get the elevator open,” Michael instructed.

Ryan immediately complied and Michael searched Benny’s apartment for a crowbar. Best thing he could find was a towel rack, which was surprisingly strong. He kicked it off the wall and rushed to the elevator doors, snagging a chair on the way. He jammed the rack in and pushed until it was open enough to fit through. He shoved the chair in to hold it. 

“Flies are moving in,” Ryan grunted from the stairwell. 

“Just in time!” Michael called back, “Elevator’s open! Let’s go.”

He squeezed through the doors and looked for the emergency hatch. Ryan started after him, rolling his eyes and shoving the doors when he didn’t fit. Michael gestured him down and Ryan lifted him up to the hatch. He used his trusty pliers to rip off the latches and get it open. He pulled himself up and Ryan grabbed the chair to get up. Michael grabbed his arm, helping haul him up the hatch.

“Fucking giant bastard,” he grunted as Ryan got through.

“Or you’re a midget,” Ryan countered.

They scurried down the ladder and into the maintenance entrance. They paused to catch their breath and Michael checked around the area. Since it was night time, no one was about, thank goodness and like many poorly planned places, the maintenance area was void of cameras. Okay, need an exit from the building without alerting anyone. No doubt the lobby exit was guarded and the only other one was the one they came from.

He felt a hand grab his wrist and he instinctively yanked his arm to the side, following with a hook. Ryan blocked it with an annoyed grunt. 

“Sorry, should’ve warned you,” he muttered.

He tugged off his left glove and slipped it over Michael’s injured hand. He snapped it tightly as Michael went back to looking around the room. _Exit. Exit. Exit._ He looked at the glove on his hand. _If you can’t find what you need, you have to make it._

“Ryan, what’s directly above us?” He asked, shuffling around the room for supplies.

“Offices.”

“Perfect.”

Ryan watched him gathering materials.

“Are you about to MacGyver us out of here?” He muttered dryly.

“Yep!” Michael called cheerfully, “Come lift me up again!”

“I’m starting to think you just like my head between your thighs,” Ryan teased as he lifted him up.

“Well, I do love that,” Michael deadpanned, “You’re pretty useful down there.”

“Sh-Shut up,” Ryan grumbled.

_He’s blushing,_ Michael thought with a grin as he started setting up. 

“Don’t worry,” he assured him, “I’ll return the favor soon.”

Ryan shivered below him.

“Don’t give me a boner,” he grunted, “I’ll accidentally drop you.”

Michael laughed, feeling a bit crazy as he flirted with the Vagabond while taping a MacGyver bomb to the ceiling. At least he wasn’t stuck in a vent. Once in place, they got behind cover.

“Okay, this will get us to offices,” Michael mumbled, “Then we can get outside, somehow, but no way we’ll get to our vehicles.”

“I’ll call in,” Ryan assured him, “I owe you a favor.”

He opened his phone and called someone, presumably Jack or Geoff.

“I’m with Mogar at my place,” he stated, “We’re about to come out the south side offices. We need a pick up.”

He put away his phone and before Michael could ask what favor he shot the bomb, blowing concrete all over the place. They clambered up into the offices, getting weapons up as peons rushed in. They shot about half a dozen between them as they backed to the windows. Ryan busted through one while Michael covered him. 

“Jesus fucking shitballs,” he grunted, “There’s a shit load of these guys.”

One got close enough for him to see a golden opportunity.

“This is Sparta!” He shouted.

He front kicked them into the hole, laughing so much he got blindsided. He followed their momentum, hauling them over his shoulder and sending them into the hole as well. He caught a fist to the kidney and almost stumbled into the hole himself, only to be grabbed by another goon. Once on his own foot again, he shot them and sent his fist across the one who pushed him. He stumbled his way back to Ryan who was firing while waiting for him to get back to the windows.

Michael ducked out and got up to cover Ryan as he dove through after him. As peons scrambled to get the news down the line, a van screeched to a stop beside them and the door opened to the King of Los Santos with a fucking mini-gun. They ducked down as he open fired into the offices and they quickly got in. He pulled back and slammed the door as Jack peeled out.

“Told you it would come in handy!” Geoff laughed as he put the gun down. 

“So unnecessary,” Jack muttered.

“That’s why you love me,” Geoff teased, getting into the front passenger seat, “I’m unnecessary, but I’m fun.”

“Dangerous, more like,” Jack scoffed.

“And you love danger,” Geoff insisted, grinning.

Jack turned to him and returned the grin.

“Yeah, I do.”

Michael smiled fondly at them, rolling his eyes. _Dorks._ His face was suddenly grabbed and he slammed his eyes shut on instinct. He grabbed at Ryan’s jacket as he mouthed at Michael, tongue flicking out to taste his mouth. Michael pressed back desperately. He hoped all the things he wanted to say could come across his tongue this way. 

“Alright,” Jack snapped, “Enough canoodling. We need to know what happened.”

They broke apart and Michael blushed as he turned away, rubbing spit off his mouth onto his sleeve. He let Ryan do the talking.

“Then Mogar saved my life,” Ryan explained, “By throwing me out of the blast range at risk of his own injury.”

Michael’s face burned.

“Shall we call it even now?” He muttered.

“The warehouse doesn’t count,” Ryan argued.

“Fucking how does it not?!” Michael demanded, “My dumbass ‘bout got exploded.”

“Yeah, but I had a boner,” Ryan deadpanned.

There was a brief moment of silence before the four occupants burst into laughter. Michael’s side ached from his bruises as he laughed, but he couldn’t have cared less about the pain of his past while he was there laughing with them.


	25. Chapter 25

Michael sipped at his coffee as he stared at the photos. Donny wasn’t in any of them, but Teddy showed up frequently. He and Benny had always been the closest of the five, if Michael recalled correctly. Their chemistry and explosives expertises seemed to work well together. They were the ones that supplied the traps of the Gauntlet, though it’d been Donny’s idea. Michael shivered as he recalled. That place was hell. The year he spent with them, the first few months had been spent in the Gauntlet. 

_“Congratulations, little Mikey!” Teddy exclaimed._

_Michael dragged himself through the door and fell to his knees, clutching his wounded side. He’d made it. He was out. He was too exhausted to spit, instead just opening his mouth and letting the blood drain out on its own._

_They were touching him, moving him, but he was too tired to fight. He felt pain throbbing up from his ankle and winced, but he couldn’t lift his head to see what was happening. It didn’t matter. He was out now. Whatever was next had to be easier._

“It wasn’t,” Michael muttered bitterly as he pulled himself back to the present.

He drank more coffee to warm him up and stared more at the pictures. Teddy’s car was in some of them. That awful shade of pink. Michael shuddered. His coffee paused midway to his mouth as he noticed a scrape on the door of the car. Only one of the pictures had a scrape. That meant he had scraped it and fixed it in Los Santos. Michael brightened up. _A lead!_

~

“Hey, Al,” Michael greeted the front desk guy, “Grif in today?”

“Nope, she’s on a date,” Al answered, “I can ask her to drop by real quick afterwards. She’s probably about done anyway.”

Michael debated. He didn’t want to interrupt Grif’s life, but his sort of depended on this.

“Yeah, alright,” he finally muttered, “Tell her it’s important.”

Al shot her a text and Michael went to wait in her office. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly. The good thing about all this was he didn’t have time to think about his feelings. But now in the quiet of Grif’s office, his mind wandered to Ryan. It wasn’t that he wanted to think about the guy, it was that he couldn’t stop himself. 

Any free moment was spent wildly trying to figure out what the fuck he wanted from the guy, what Ryan wanted from him. _He loves me. Why? Why does he love me? What have I ever done to deserve his love? All I do is fight and argue with him. Do I love him?_

Michael was pretty sure he didn’t, but it’d been so long since he’d loved someone he wasn’t all that sure. He definitely cared for him, wanted him to be safe and uninjured, but did it go past that? _Emotions are hard, I just want to sleep,_ he thought. 

“Hello!” Grif’s voice interrupted his despair.

He sat up to greet her, but stopped as his eyes landed on who she had with her. Geoff also seemed surprised to see him. 

“Mogar, this is Geoff,” Grif introduced as she walked around her desk, “Geoff, this is Mogar.”

“Your Majesty,” Michael greeted dryly.

“So you know Geoff?” Grif asked, surprised.

“Intimately,” Michael muttered, “Anyway, I need some information on a paint job. You’ll remember this one if you’ve seen it.”

He pulled the picture out and slid it to her. She grimaced.

“Right, that fucking tool,” she grunted, “Real flashy dickbag. We fixed the scrape then he tried to get a refund saying it wasn’t the right color.”

“Did he give any personal information?” He prompted, “Where he’s staying or anything?”

“Off-handedly mentioned a hotel near the docks,” she answered, “And said his name was Teddy. Other than that, no.”

Michael sighed and retrieved the photo.

“Thanks Grif,” he said, standing, “I owe you one.”

She stood and shook his hand.

“Call us even for last time,” she laughed, “Be careful out there.”

“Don’t kill too many men, Griffy,” he called over his shoulder as he left.

He got to his car and was about to open the door when Geoff jogged up to catch him before he left. He looked way too classy to be jogging.

“Mogar, I’ve got something for you,” he answered Michael’s questioning look.

He pulled something from his jacket and passed it to Michael who squinted to see it in the dark. A case of some kind? He opened it. _Glasses._ What? He pulled them out and tried them on. He swayed as he looked around. He could fucking see! Jesus, he’d been blind as shit! He saw Geoff’s tattoos in more detail even with them at the man’s side. He could see individual leaves on nearby trees. He could see Grif’s sign had a subtitle, not just a line of color under the name.

“Grif’s Bangin’ Body Shop,” he read, laughing, “I had no idea she called it that. Jesus, I can see cloud shapes. Has concrete always been this detailed? Wow, Geoff, you got pretty eyes.”

Geoff laughed and winked.

“Careful now, Mogar,” he teased, “Don’t get yourself in trouble with your flirting.”

“How did you guys figure out the right glasses?” He demanded, still staring around wide-eyed.

“Dunno, Ry and Jack did it,” Geoff explained, shrugging, “I guess Ryan’s worked with you enough to know how far you can see. I don’t know how it works.”

“I feel like I’m playing Halo 5 immediately after Pong,” Michael muttered, “Thank you for the glasses! I...shouldn’t accept a gift, but I don’t want to take them off.”

Geoff chuckled softly and patted his shoulder.

“Ry said it’s for saving his ass yesterday,” Geoff assured him, “He was quite insistent that you know it’s not a gift.”

Michael blushed. _He reads me like a book now, doesn’t he?_

“Well, thanks, now I bet I can properly shoot,” he joked.

“And dodge a fist better,” Geoff teased.

Michael rolled his eyes, but a fond smile spread over his lips. _These fucking idiots._

~

Michael pushed the new glasses back up his nose and readjusted his beanie before he climbed out of his car. He walked through the hotel’s employee entrance, following behind someone else. He held the door for the next person with a polite smile. People ignored the fact they’d never seen you before if you were calm and polite enough. They also were slow to notice when you’d swiped their keycard.

He made his way up to Teddy’s floor via the service elevator and headed straight for the empty room next to his. He swiped the keycard and ducked inside. He quickly locked and dead-bolted the door before he moved towards the balcony. He glanced around for any witnesses before he hopped from his balcony to Teddy’s. 

As he’d expected, the balcony door was rigged, but that’s why he brought the glass breaker. He pressed it against the solid pane of glass, sending spider-webs of cracks across it in a ripple. He carefully knocked the glass out of his way, cautious about disturbing the moving pane of glass. 

Once inside, he kicked the glass out onto the balcony and made sure the curtain was hiding the signs of a break-in. He checked his watch. Okay, he had time to find the silent alarm, he just had to hurry. He started at the door frames, then the windows, and started to check under tables when he heard a familiar voice in the hallway. 

_What the fuck?!_ He quickly located the ironing closet and ducked inside. He wasn’t supposed to be back until evening and there was no way the silent alarm signaled him that quickly. And he certainly wasn’t meant to be with-

“Thanks for having me,” Adam said brightly as the door opened, “I hope I’m not too much of a bother.”

“Not at all,” Teddy assured him, “I enjoy your company, Mr. Kovic.”

They walked towards the dining area and Michael thought he might vomit. He couldn’t see what was happening. He didn’t know why Adam was there. He fumbled with his phone, hoping Adam had his on.

_GET OUT!_

He didn’t hear Adam’s go off, but he prayed he saw the message. _Adam, get your stupid ass out of here!_ From the sound of it, Teddy was pouring wine. _Not good._

“Well, I believe we can come to an agreement,” he said, “Your company is quite well known as one of good character.”

“Thank you,” Adam replied, “That’s very flattering coming from someone of your talents.”

“Oh, now you are the flatterer, Mr. Kovic,” Teddy laughed, “I was quite surprised to hear from you, I had heard you’d already hired an engineer.”

“Unfortunately, Mogar had a... disagreement,” Adam replied carefully, “With one of our employees. Therefore he turned down the offer.”

“Disagreement?” Teddy pressed, “That seems a small reason to turn down the job.”

“Yes, well, we scraped the guy off the pavement afterwards,” Adam pointed out, “So disagreement is probably an understatement.”

Teddy chuckled.

“I should think so,” he agreed, “He’s got quite the reputation for anger, doesn’t he?”

Adam hummed noncommittally. 

“Aren’t you going to drink, Mr. Kovic?” Teddy coaxed, “To our newfound partnership?”

“I’m actually not able to drink wine,” Adam answered, “I’m allergic to grapes.”

Michael frowned, then relaxed, almost sighing in relief. _He knows who Teddy is._ Unfortunately, that would no doubt cause Teddy to turn to violence much quicker. And Michael couldn’t use his eyes if he needed to fight. Adam used to be okay in a fight, but Teddy knew martial arts. Like some Batman bullshit. 

“Perhaps something else?” Teddy offered, “I always begin negotiations with a toast.”

“No, thank you,” Adam politely declined, “I’m not really much of a drinker.”

Before Michael has a chance to prepare to fight, the fight started. It sounded like someone smashed the bottle of wine, but he didn’t know who. He hesitated before ducking out of the closet, eyes open, weapon out. He shot as soon as Teddy turned towards him. Michael almost jumped in surprise when the bullet not only hit exactly what he was aiming for (his eye), but immediately dropped him as well. 

“Seeing clearly is the fucking best!” He shouted, pumping his fist. 

_Adam, where’s Adam?!_ Adam was slumped over the table, the wine bottle smashed over his head. _Shit!_ Michael rushed to him, groping at his neck for a pulse. Okay. He brushed glass off him, looking at the wound. Unease filled him, sickness rolling in his stomach. He could see his skull. _Shit._ He couldn’t let Adam get caught in this room by paramedics. There was too much illegal shit, he’d be arrested for sure. And he could hear the distant sound of sirens. Someone had heard the gunshot. 

He fumbled for Adam’s phone, then stopped on the lock screen. What the fuck was Adam’s password?? _Birthday, no. Name, no. FunHaus founding year, no. Shit! Shit!_ Michael’s hands were shaking. He didn’t know what it was. He tried a number of other random things before he nearly broke down at the one that worked: Michael’s birthday. He was trying really hard not to cry as he called Bruce and explained what happened. He gave up when he hung up and tried to apply some form of first aid to Adam’s wound.

“Adam, you idiot,” he sobbed, “A-all this fucking t-time. And I...I didn’t even...”

He held him tightly as he waited for rescue. 

“Adam, p-please don’t die!” he sobbed, “Please, I l-love you! I don’t want you to d-die!”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because we’re about to go ham in this bitch. Feels ahead.

Michael woke up to someone’s hand on his shoulder. He lashed out immediately, twisting the arm away to send a jab to their ribs. A familiar grunt stopped him from swinging again. He opened his eyes to see Ryan, now rubbing his ribs with an annoyed look.

“Every time?” He grumbled, “Here.”

He shoved a cup of coffee in his hands and sat in the chair next to him. Michael just squinted at him suspiciously.

“What are you doing here?”He demanded.

Ryan turned to him, his eyes blank.

“Your beloved was injured,” he answered, “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

He turned back to staring at the far wall. Michael set the coffee down on the nearby table, rolling his eyes.

“Beloved?” Michael questioned dryly, “I think you’re confused.”

He looked towards the door Adam had been taken through. How long had it been? How much longer was it going to be? Was the injury that bad? 

“Crying out “please, Adam” and “I love you” in your sleep seems to suggest he is your beloved.”

Michael looked at him, startled.

“Did I?” He muttered, “Weird. I don’t even remember what I was dreaming about.”

“Well, it was certainly more desperate than you ever begged me,” Ryan answered.

Michael went scarlet. 

“Fucking asshole,” he grumbled, “You know I do other shit besides beg for people to fuck me, right? In fact that shit is probably like two percent of my time.”

“Seems like you do it a lot,” Ryan commented mildly.

“You just _think_ that,” Michael grunted, “Because I only do it around you, fuckhead. The rest of my life is pretty fucking sex-free.”

His face resembled a tomato as he realized what he said. He buried his face in his hands. 

“What happened to being a whore?” Ryan quipped, “Weren’t you telling me how unimpressive I was?”

Michael wanted to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

“I was lying, obviously!” He groaned miserably.

Ryan was quiet for awhile and Michael used the time to try to work himself into saying what he wanted to say. _Tell him you care about him._ He fidgeted nervously as he tried to hype himself up. _Just say it. You’re a grown man. You’re fucking **Mogar**. Just say you care about him! Tell him he’s special to you! Just fucking do it!_

“Mogar?”

Michael leapt up at the sound of Bruce’s voice. He rushed forward.

“Bruce? How is he?” He asked frantically.

“He’s fine,” Bruce assured him, “It’s not as serious as it probably looked. They said he might have a concussion, but for the most part he looks alright.”

Michael relaxed considerably. 

“Thank god,” he muttered, “I-I thought I might...”

Bruce squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“He’s going to be fine,” he repeated, “How are you? Need any injuries taken care of?”

Michael shook his head.

“He’s sleeping now,” Bruce answered before Michael could ask, “You should go home and get some rest yourself. We’ll call you when he’s ready to see you.”

Michael nodded and Bruce squeezed his shoulder again before walking away. Michael stood there a moment, processing and wondering. Why had Adam been with Teddy in the first place? Which one had sought out the other? When had Adam known that Teddy was up to no good? He sighed heavily and turned to leave. 

“Need a ride?” Ryan offered.

“You have your bike?” Michael countered.

Ryan stared at him a moment in confusion.

“Yes?” He answered.

“Then yes, I want a ride.”

~

Michael sighed out smoke as he stared at the inky sky. The bike ride had done wonders for relaxing him and now in this moment of calm he tried to think clearly. Ryan had taken him up Mount Chiliad as though he knew Michael didn’t want to go home. Now he sat beside him, head tipped back slightly as he stared at the sky. Ryan’s presence in the silence was calming and Michael felt some of his worries relax as he breathed it in. 

“Ry, I want to know something,” he started carefully, “Why do you love me?”

Ryan’s head turned to look at him briefly before he went back to looking at the stars.

“Well, your fire for the most part,” he offered, “You tell me what I should do in dire situations instead of mumbling or hesitating. You always have a snappy comeback even if I really hurt you. You’re not afraid to pull me closer or push me away. You’re amazing and confident in what you do, work or otherwise. When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I’m just a killer or a bodyguard. You treat me the same as you treat everyone else and you never try to use me for what I can do or who I know.” 

Michael stared at him in surprised silence for a moment until Ryan looked back down at him.

“What?”

Michael didn’t even know what to say. He didn’t know where to start or what all he wanted to convey. A bubble of happiness was rising in him, filling him with warmth. He just wanted to stay like that forever. _Calm, warm, **together.** _

He blushed and looked away, embarrassed he’d just been staring at him for so long. He didn’t know what words to say, wasn’t sure he could say anything coherent, so he just chose action, hoping that would show Ryan something he was feeling. His left hand laid over Ryan’s right where it rested on the ground between them and he squeezed even though it hurt to do so. 

This stillness of the night was interrupted by his phone going off. He jumped, quickly fumbling it from his pocket and answered without looking, assuming it was Bruce.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mikey.”


	27. Chapter 27

“Donny,” Michael muttered quietly, “Long time no see.”

He felt cold, was it cold? He shivered, squeezing Ryan’s hand to remind himself where he was. The pain of the wound there soothed him, reminded him that he was there in LS, that he was free.

“Indeed, it has been a long time,” Donny agreed coolly, “I have to hand it to you, you’ve come such a long way.”

“Yeah, across the whole fucking country,” Michael mumbled, “Yet all you dickbags followed me here.”

“Well, of course,” Donny answered, “Property should be retrieved when it is stolen.”

Michael puffed out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“And who stole me, Donny?” He questioned, voice filled with quiet rage.

“Child, you’ve misunderstood,” Donny chided lightly, almost gently, “Your _body_ is our property, _you_ are the thief.”

“You mean “my” property,” Michael corrected darkly, “Everyone else is fucking dead, Don, it’s just you now.”

“Hm, I suppose you’re right,” Donny mused, “You know I never did like to share.”

“Yeah, me either,” Michael growled, “So I’m just going to keep my body. It belongs only to me now until I fucking die. Then it belongs to the damn soil.”

“How poetic,” Donny commented, sounding amused, “However, it is not true. You have been marked child.”

Michael’s ankle throbbed with a ghostly pain as he was reminded and he squeezed his eyes closed against the stinging. _No. No, I won’t let this happen again_. He opened his eyes and turned to Ryan.

“Not any more, Donny,” he growled, “Give me a damn knife.”

Ryan had one in his hand from seemingly nowhere and passed it to Michael who let go of his hand to grip the knife.

“Mikey, I forbid you from doing that!” Donny snapped, “Stop what you are doing immediately!”

Michael yanked up his pant leg and made sure his sock was pushed out of the way.

“You don’t fucking own me,” He muttered hotly, clicking open the knife, “No one does. Not even the ones I _allow_ to say so really do.”

He pressed the blade to the tattoo on his ankle and hissed as it sliced into his skin like it was butter.

“Mikey! Stop that this instant!”

Michael twirled the knife around his ankle, circling over the ink there.

“Not a chance, shithead,” he refused, “You know, this whole time I kept it because I was fucking _terrified_ of what you’d all do to me if I got rid of it.”

He looped the knife around again, making another circle next to the first.

“As you sh-“

“But really,” Michael growled, interrupting, “The truth is _you_ should be afraid of _me._ A full fucking year and you couldn’t break me all the way down, couldn’t kill me.”

He completed marring the inked skin with another loop.

“And now I’ve killed four of you assfucks,” He added, “So I’d say my chances are a fuck of a lot higher than yours.”

Donny was silent as Michael wiped the blade and returned it to Ryan.

“I have a pretty damn good survival rating,” he finished, voice low and dangerous, “And now, more than ever, I have so many dumbass reasons to live. So you should be _very_ fucking afraid, Don.”

“I’m going to get you back,” Donny snarled, “And I’m going to destroy everything you love to get to you.”

“Good luck, bitch,” Michael taunted, a grin spreading on his face, “Everything I love fights back.”

~

The term “sweating like a whore in a church” has nothing on sweating like a wanted criminal in a police station. Though in fairness, Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a church, so maybe he wasn’t the best person to judge such a thing. Luckily, walking with purpose and confidence while nodding politely can get you pretty far. And no one ever expects the IT guy. People always just assume they missed a memo or simply weren’t informed. 

“Hey, here for IT?” Michael muttered as he stopped in front of the evidence lockup, “I need to take a look at the filing computer.”

“Sure.”

The disinterested cop quickly opened the door for him and led him to the evidence, all lined up neatly on shelves. They returned to the front almost immediately and Michael dove into the files to find the evidence from Teddy’s hotel room. He read through the log of evidence, looking for anything that might help him.

_Portable hard drive._ That could have some good info on it. _Photos._ Could show Donny in them. _Phone._ Could have something, but probably not, Teddy didn’t like cellphones. _Address book. Bingo!_ That’s exactly what he needed. He ambled his way over to the appropriate box and made to look like he was checking that it matched the file. 

A few minutes later, after fiddling with the computer some more, he left lockup. He waved politely at the cop at the counter and made his way out, pockets heavy with his new clues. As soon as he passed the threshold, a high pitched scream of an alarm went off. _Haha, oops?_

He dropped into a sudden sprint for his car, diving in and peeling out immediately. He grimaced at his own stupidity. Obviously they’d have some form of tag on evidence to prevent it from getting out. He had a swarm of flies on him as he put the pedal to the floor. Maneuvers were his best bet, no way one AK being fired by one guy was going to get him free. 

He just needed to find the perfect spot to lose them. He traced the Los Santos map in his head, tracking paths to safe holes to hide in. He needed a nice, long weaving trail that would help him swat the flies. NG’s ring was about a mile as the crow flies, so he swerved suddenly to the left. Bryan was gonna be pissed to see him.

~

Bryan wasn’t pissed to see him. He even hugged him. Michael awkwardly hugged back, patting his back. 

“Jesus, Michael!” He exclaimed as he pulled away, “The rumor was that you fucking died, man!”

“I wish,” Michael muttered darkly, “Good to know your Liberty ass actually does love me.”

Bryan slugged his arm before grabbing him around the shoulders to drag him inside.

“The fuck you doin here anyway?” He demanded.

“Just needed to duck my head,” Michael answered, tiredly, “Don’t worry, I shook them off before I got here.”

“Eh, we’re good at disappearing if we need to,” Bryan assured him, “You need anything?”

Michael scowled at him suspiciously as they stepped through the door of the ring.

“The fuck you bein so nice for?” He demanded as they went down the stairs. 

“Just wait,” Bryan laughed, “You’ll see.”

True to his word, Michael did see as they entered the ring. The place was packed like an unruly, drunken can of sardines. Bryan led him through the crowd, though they made their way like they were swimming upstream.

“They all heard about Fake AH’s appearances,” He explained through the din, “Now every fight night is packed in the hopes they make a return appearance.”

He led Michael through an employee only door, the sound dying down as the door shut behind them. They continued into his office where one of the other NG guys was waiting.

“Dang, Mogar, we thought you was dead!” He shouted.

“Hey, Neebs,” Michael greeted as he moved forward, “Don’t bet on me dying, man. You know I’m a stubborn asshole.”

“Well, Simon, I can come back later,” Neebs offered, getting up, “Just wanted your opinion on colors.”

“Don’t decide anything without me!” Bryan warned as the guy left, “I’ll fucking murder you if you let Doraleous choose!”

“I’m not _that_ dumb!” Neebs protested as he shut the door.

Bryan rolled his eyes as he sat down.

“Alright, what can we do for you?” He prompted, “We definitely owe you, man. We’re in a great fucking place thanks to you. Finally doin some reno. Wouldn’t say no to hiring you for some of that too, if you’re looking for work.”

“I need a computer,” Michael requested, “Not permanently, just to check what’s on this fucking thing.”

He pulled out the hard drive.

“No problem,” Bryan answered, “You can use mine. I’ll get the fuck out of here, cause I don’t even wanna know what shit you’re in.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Michael laughed nervously, “I appreciate it, man.”

“Anything for my best fighter,” Bryan joked as he left.

Michael rolled his eyes and got around his desk to plug the hard drive in. 

“Alright, Teddy,” he muttered, “Show me what you knew.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilery trigger warning in the end notes. Related to sexual assault.

“A lot” was the surprising answer to what Teddy knew. Michael recalled Teddy being the more frivolous of the five, but the drive was packed with information. It was all code, but Michael knew their codewords, so had no trouble figuring it out.

There was a plethora of information on victims, finances, associates, and even the rest of the Backstreet Boys. It was meticulously updated and organized, as well as carefully vague on certain details. For example the “Location” section on his own file merely stated “Los Santos, San Andreas” and on Charlie, Tommy, and Benny’s it simply said “N/A”. Donny’s also only said he was in LS, but it did have some other information that provided useful, even he wished he hadn’t learned it. 

Now armed with Donny’s real last name, he looked him up in Teddy’s address book. It listed a number, but that wasn’t all that helpful. He had no way to track a number. But it did also have a couple words written on the entry that provided him with a clue. _Grand, white, 1987._

“Grand and white,” Michael muttered, “Well, I don’t know that I was grand, but I was definitely white when I was born in 1987.”

“Alderney, the fuck you talkin bout?” Bryan’s voice called from the door, “You about done?”

Michael rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“Yes, _Liberty,”_ He grunted, “I’m done. I think I’ve got my lead. You’re a scholar and a gentleman.”

“How dare you insult me like that?!” Bryan joked, “I’ll kick yer ass back to ‘derney, you call me that again.”

“Ha! Someone doesn’t watch their best fighter when he’s at work,” Michael answered dryly as he walked to the door, “My own manager thinks he can fight the toughest Alderney kid to make it to Los Santos?”

“Probably the only one to make it here,” Bryan muttered, “You’re the only one made it out of that sinking pile of garbage.”

Michael laughed as he bumped fists with the other man.

“I am trash,” he admitted playfully, “So of course home sweet home is a dumpster.”

Bryan laughed at him and rolled his eyes.

“Stay outta trouble, kid,” he grunted, “At least til you’re outta my ring.”

“Not a chance, Liberty,” Michael snorted, “Don’t you know trouble finds me?”

~

Michael clicked the night vision on the binoculars. He’d had a feeling “grand” was referring to Grand St. a street in the higher class area of LS. White, he was pretty sure, referred to the color of the house. Unfortunately, Grand St. was lined almost exclusively with white mansions, so he had to stake the street out, working his way through them. Not his most enjoyable Saturday thus far, but not his least either, so he had that going.

He still had no idea what his plan was for when he found the right one. There was no way in hell he couldn’t flashback if he saw him. Seeing Donny would trigger a meltdown for sure. He had no idea what to do about it though. If he had his eyes covered, he couldn’t exactly fight long range, but he knew getting close enough for the guy to touch him could also cause problems. 

Of the Backstreet Boys, Donny’s touch was the one he was most familiar with and the one that was most distinctive on account of his missing fingers. Just thinking about it, he could practically feel that heavy hand on his shoulder, an empty gap where his ring finger should be. 

He wobbled where he was standing, his knees trying to drop. He squeezed his fist, the wound pulsing reminders that he was in the present. He took a few deep breaths and went back to looking. _Okay._ That house had a name on the mailbox. Anderson. _Out._ That house had a wreath. _Out._ That one had toys in the window seat. _Out._ Three down, only dozens to go. _Oh boy. This is gonna be a long night._

Michael shifted backwards further into the shadows as a car pulled onto the street, followed closely by a van. _Oh no._ That couldn’t be good news. He watched as they pulled into a driveway, the car opening the garage, but parking outside of it. A queasy feeling was growing in his chest. The van backed in, confirming Michael’s hunch: they’d kidnapped someone. 

He shifted, trying to see the back end as the occupants of both drivers seats exited their respective vehicles. The driver of the car opened the door for Donny, who Michael didn’t look at, but still got a cold chill from. The van was opened and Michael stretched to see what poor fucker got carried off. At first he couldn’t tell, it was dark and night vision isn’t exactly a dream to see through. 

Then when they suddenly “woke up”, Michael recognized who it was. They were snapping an elbow into one man’s nose while throwing a backhanded punch at another. Then they spun, sending a fast hook to broken nose who fucking _flew_ across the drive on impact. The other guy jabbed at the person’s ribs, causing them to wince terribly. _Broken ribs._ They were in bad shape, no doubt exhausted. Backup arrived before they could fully recover and they went into a defensive stance. 

_Why do they have Geoff?! How do they have Geoff?! Where the hell are the others?!_

Michael’s heart pounded in his chest as they flipped on the garage lights and he flipped off night vision. If he was that beaten, then he must’ve caused quite the stir. No doubt there was a pile of a few dozen unconscious goons somewhere. Likely the docks if the sand on the van was any indication. The car was perfectly clean though, so they must’ve met up elsewhere. 

Michael bit his tongue as Donny walked up from his peripherals to stand in front of Geoff. They were speaking, but Geoff was still tensed to fight. An unease was beginning to fill him. Geoff was like him, so he probably also had a mark or at least used to. If he had a mark, then they’d come for him eventually. _But why now? Two birds, one stone?_ Michael’s mind wandered to the hard drive. He hadn’t checked Geoff’s file. He could’ve faked his own death or disappearance. If that was the case that meant Michael led them straight to him. _Shit._

He watched their talking, focusing on body language. Geoff was tense, obviously, and angry. Donny on the other hand seemed quite pleased. He wasn’t moving a lot, but his hand gestures were certainly more animated. Michael felt the chill in his spine again. Pleased Donny meant bad things for bitches. Michael scanned over the remaining goons and one was holding something behind their back. He couldn’t see it properly from that distance, but it wasn’t had to figure out it was a syringe. They were going to drug Geoff.

_Shit._ He needed to do something. He had a gun, but even with his newfound sight, he’d never make that shot. No doubt it would also just bring them down on him. _Fuck._ Throw something, maybe? He didn’t think he had anything he could throw far enough to do any good. Pliers? Phone could be flat enough, maybe. _Phone. Phone!_

He fumbled the phone out of his pocket and got it open to the last call. He shuddered, but suppressed the chill inside him. Geoff needed a hand. He called back Donny’s number and kept his binoculars up. He watched the man pull the phone out. Hated the way he seemed happy to have received the call.

“Hello, Mikey!” He greeted cheerfully, “Are you attempting to surrender?”

Michael watched Geoff connect the dots as to who Donny was talking to. 

“No, I’m not,” Michael answered, “But I found out something interesting earlier. Thought I’d share it with you. Or rather inform you that I’m now aware of it.”

“Oh? What might that be, Mikey?” Donny asked, sounding amused.

“Your last name,” Michael muttered, “I learned it by going through Teddy’s things. Learned that coincidences don’t exist.”

Donny’s shoulders stiffened. He was starting to realize where Michael was going with this.

“Now I know,” Michael whispered, “I know why you made me call you daddy. Congrats, Donald Jones, it’s a boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: non-consensual incest mention.


	29. Chapter 29

Donny turned around, away from Geoff in a hurry. Even from that distance, Michael could see panic radiating off the guy.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” Michael cooed, overly sweet, “You’re being so quiet.”

“What else did you learn?” Donny questioned lightly.

_Oh, the incest isn’t even the big reveal,_ Michael thought bitterly. But now he was into bluffing territory. He hadn’t looked any further than that.

“Hm, who knows?” He answered, breezily, “Maybe I’ll tell you if you meet me.”

Donny grunted, his body language hesitant.

“Fine, where?” He finally agreed.

“Downtown, in front of Caesar’s joint,” Michael instructed, “But you fucking meet me now. I’m a bit impatient, daddy. And you better not bring any friends.”

“Fine,” he answered tightly.

“See ya soon!” Michael chirped, then hung up.

He watched as Donny started ordering people around. Clearly in no mood to fuck Geoff, he pulled a gun on him and had him sit to be cuffed. Geoff complied, but he was radiating an intense sort of rage. Donny left with most of the guards, but left five behind. Michael checked his watch.  _Okay, Geoff, you got about twenty minutes before your window closes._

Michael crept closer to the house, trying to decide his best course of action. He could try to get inside and simply wait for Donny to come back, but then he’d have a bunch of guards to deal with plus he might have to fight hand-to-hand with him. He could just wait nearby and try to shoot him the second he stepped out, but he might breakdown if he saw him more clearly. He could rig something to explode so he could be long gone before the 5-0 showed up, but that would take time and equipment and he didn’t have that.

He was better off just leaving, but then Donny would figure out he was bluffing, he knew where he lived, and that he’d helped Geoff escape. His best bet would be to steal a car and go to the meeting and just pray he could find a way out of it. He saw Geoff beginning to escape and realized the guy didn’t have a phone.  _Shit._ He shot off a text to Ryan as he started moving down the street.

He needed to get out of high class to steal a car. They were all locked up in the fancy neighborhoods. He hesitated a moment to check that Geoff was going to get out. He didn’t look great, but he was holding his own. He checked his watch. No time to be sure though, he had to try to save his own ass.

“Fuck!” He hissed as he swerved off course.

He sprinted towards where Geoff was about to be blindsided. He spear tackled the guy, slamming him into the concrete floor, his head hitting with a sick smacking sound. Before he could get on his feet, someone grabbed his jacket and yanked him up. He twisted, sending the heel of his boot into their ribs, sending them stumbling. He got back on stable ground as a third came at him. 

They charged with a wild hook that he easily blocked and countered with a jab to the sternum. They reeled back, gasping, giving him enough room to front kick the recovered second person. They fell on their ass and he sent his boots to their nuts while blocking the wild swing from the sternum guy. 

“You’re fucking easy to block!” He snapped at them as he blocked another, “Control your damn hits, fucko.” 

He demonstrated by pivoting, sending a hook to their guts. They bent, wheezing and he snapped his knee into their nose, lifting it from whoever’s nuts he’d been cracking.

“See? Not fucking rocket science!” He shouted, swinging his fist into their temple. 

They fell and he slammed his boot into destroyed genitals’ face before they could recover. He stumbled towards Geoff who was expertly fighting off two shitheads, though he was weakening fast. Michael looped an arm around one’s neck, shoving a knee up between their legs. They huffed, dropping into the hold and he squeezed until their throat collapsed, which wasn’t long. He dropped them as Geoff’s fist finally hit the last guy’s face, knocking them out.

“Your Majesty,” Michael huffed as he caught his breath, “How’s it hangin’?”

“Little to the left,” Geoff grunted, breathless, “You open that window for me?”

“Yeah, I thought I owed you,” Michael answered, wincing, “Figured it was my bad they found you.”

“But saving my ass in this fight?” Geoff prompted, sounding pained.

“Eh, couldn’t let my king die on my watch,” Michael muttered, “Hopefully Ry will-“

The sound of screeching tires drew their attention. Michael found himself stepping in front of Geoff, guarding the side with the broken ribs. 

“Don’t worry,” Geoff assured him, “That’s Jack.”

Sure enough, a car whipped into the driveway and the garage lights revealed the driver as a familiar redhead. Michael got his arm around Geoff to get him into the backseat and slid in after him. 

“Sorry, Mogar,” Jack called over her shoulder, “This is a taxi for one.”

“Ah, okay,” Michael answered, “You good, Geoff?”

He slid his arm from around him and helped him lay on his side.

“Thanks,” Geoff huffed, “Owe you.”

“Nah.”

Michael slid from the seat and closed the door. He gave Jack a thumbs up and checked his watch as she pulled out. Okay, he needed to hurry if he wanted to get to the meeting before Donny noticed. It was probably already too late. He traced the shortest path out of high society. He might be able to make it if he found a vehicle pretty quick. The sound of a motorcycle cut off his path-making as Ryan pulled in beside him.

“Need a ride?” He offered.

“I’d love to ride you,” Michael laughed, hopping on, “Caesar’s downtown.”

Ryan swerved around, foot on the driveway as he spun to face the road. Michael held on tightly as he zipped out of there, his heart pounding in his chest. Ryan could get him there in time, but then Ryan would be there. _Fuck._

~

“Hey, daddy,” Michael chirped, sugary sweet, “Did ya miss me?”

He heard Donny shift, turning around and heard an annoyed grunt. No doubt he was annoyed that Ryan was standing behind him. He clicked his tongue and Michael suppressed the shiver in his spine.

“I thought we were meeting alone, Mikey,” He grunted.

“Don’t call me that,” Michael growled, “You don’t get a free pass just because you fucked my mom.”

There was a second where he relaxed back into casual mode.

“But anyway,” he continued, _“You_ didn’t come alone, did you, daddy?”

“Hmph, of course not,” the man muttered, “You expect me to walk about this shithole unprotected?”

“Shithole?” Michael repeated, mock offended, “Rude! This is home sweet home for me, daddy-o!”

“Yes, trash tends to live in a dumpster,” Donny scoffed, “Cut the chatter. Tell me what you know.”

“But chatting is my favorite thing!” Michael protested, “Geez, so unfriendly when you don’t get your way. Spoiled little child.”

“Mike- _Michael_ , this was not a friendly meeting,” Donny pointed out, “You were threatening me.”

Michael laughed bitterly.

“Me threatening you soured our relationship?” He clarified dryly, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s the worst thing between us.”

Michael pulled the grenade from his jacket and yanked the pin, twirling it around his finger. 

“So here’s the deal, daddy dearest,” Michael began, “You are going to try to give me a good reason for all the shit you’ve done. It better be fucking good or I blow us all to shit and you can try again when we meet in Hell.”

“You’re bluffing,” Donny hissed.

“Hmph, Vagabond?” Michael called softly, “Am I bluffing?”

“No.”

“He knows because I blew an alleyway up,” Michael explained cheerfully, “Barely made it out alive. So let’s try again. From the beginning.”

There was a brief moment of silence and even though Michael couldn’t see it, he reveled in making the guy sweat. He had the high ground this round. Or at least he thought so. 

“You don’t want an explanation,” Donny finally spoke, “You want the story. You don’t know anything. You’re buffing.”

He shifted towards Michael, he could hear his expensive shoes on the sidewalk. _No. No. No!_

“Wrong fucking bet, father,” he snarled.

He tossed the grenade towards Donny and spun, eyes opening to see Ryan. He dove towards him as the grenade blew, praying he could protect him. Pain exploded over him and he saw white before he faded.


	30. Chapter 30

Michael watched the smoke rising as it puffed from his mouth. As it dissipated, he looked past it. Stars twinkled against the dark velvet of the sky, reminding him of knives shining in a display case. So deadly and wicked looking as they sparkled under that glass. Yet, the case was closed, rendering them useless. _There is no way to be dangerous without also being in danger._

“I should write poetry,” Michael muttered, flicking his cigarette butt, “Or fucking kill myself. One of the two.”

He sighed, looking back over Los Santos. From where he was, he could see the whole city in its glorious filthiness. The distant sounds of joy and anguish, too distant to separate one from the other, were like the theme music for Michael’s shitty life. Truly if Alderney had a sister on the west coast, it was Los Santos. No wonder it felt like home. Only thing missing was a shitty neighboring city to rival with. 

Michael smiled softly, thinking of Bryan’s dumb Liberty ass and the people he used to know back east. Two and a half, almost three years he’d been in LS and he never once thought about going home. Was Alderney even home? Had it ever really been? He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Los Santos is home now,” he muttered, “And now’s all I got to worry about.”

_I should definitely write poetry. Go to some lame hipster bar and do poetry night._ He laughed at himself, running a hand over his face. He checked his watch. Just as he thought “you’re late”, the sound of a familiar bike rumbled towards him. He froze in place, his eyes going wide. He was supposed to be meeting a random peon, not the fucking Vagabond! _Geoff set me up! That fucking tool!_

“Shit fuck dicks!” He hissed, panicking.

He’d wasted precious time freaking out, so by the time he clumsily slid over his trunk and got to the driver’s door, the familiar bike was parked nose to nose with his front bumper. He fumbled his keys as the rider calmly walked towards him, anger radiating off of him like heat waves. Michael had enough sense left to block the backhand that flew at his face, but his wrist was caught and jerked down out of the way. 

He flinched as the hand raised again, but it never fell. Instead, two gloved hands seized his jacket and lifted him off the ground, slamming him into his car. He gasped and winced. His back was mostly healed, but damn it had some tender parts still. Michael couldn’t look at his eyes, screwing his own shut tightly.

“Two fucking months!” Ryan shouted at him, “And you’ve been fucking working?! Fucking boundaries, privacy, space! I didn’t make you talk to me fucking once! I didn’t go to your place, I didn’t seek you out! I gave you all the fucking time and you’ve been working?! Fucking, _look_ at me!”

Michael couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make himself. 

“Look at me, damnit!” Ryan shouted, “Look me in the fucking eye and tell me why!”

Michael’s eyes couldn’t open. He couldn’t do it. If he did, Ryan would see.

“Just look at me, M-Michael!” Ryan cried, choking, “Please! J-just look at me!”

“I c-can’t!” Michael sputtered.

“Why?! Just l-look at me!” Ryan begged, voice thick with tears, “Pl-please! Just t-tell me why!”

“I h-have to st-stay in the case!” Michael sobbed, “I-I can’t-! I can’t let you l-love me! I c-can’t! I-I’ll fall...I’ll fall in l-love with you! I can’t!”

“Why not?!” Ryan demanded, “Why can’t you?! Why can’t you just let this happen?!”

Michael grabbed his forearms, squeezing tightly, trying to stop himself from floating away.

“Because then I won’t be safe,” Michael whispered, voice broken and sad even to his own ears, “Then I’ll have to hurt when you hurt, feel what you feel, and when you die, so will I.”

Ryan was silent a moment before he slowly put Michael back on his own two feet. He put his hands on Michael’s face, thumbs wiping away the tears that managed to leak through his tightly closed eyelids.

“You saved my life, Michael,” he whispered, “Twice at least, with no regard for your own safety. You protected me from harm. You fought beside me. You respected my mask. You never once asked me for help with your problems, but were always willing to help with mine. Michael, you idiot, you already feel what I feel.”

Michael’s heart exploded and his eyes opened, hot tears pouring down his face in a tidal wave of emotion. Ryan’s blue eyes were filled with tears and love and Michael thought maybe a bit of nervousness. But most of all, every part of Ryan’s face was screaming that he trusted him, fully and unconditionally. Ryan trusted him with his heart, with his name, with his face, with his life. Michael finally realized, he trusted him the same, he loved him the same. He had for awhile, hadn’t he? His anxiety eased and his heart opened, flooding him with love and warmth. He gasped, clutching his chest with wide eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed.

When was the last time he felt like this towards anyone? When was the last time he felt safe enough to to feel this way? 

“I’m...an idiot,” he muttered, swaying a bit, “Y-you’re right. I already love you.”

Ryan surged forward, urgently pressing their mouths together. Michael’s eyes stayed open, flicking all over Ryan’s face as they kissed. He gasped when Ryan pulled back and Ryan chuckled at him. Michael’s knees gave out as he watched the emotion of mirth on his beautiful face. Ryan cursed as he caught him with a frown.

“Are you okay?!” He demanded, “Jesus, did you hold your breath too long?”

“N-no, I...that saying,” Michael tried to explain breathlessly, “Weak at the knees. It’s real. Fuck. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I know that already.”

Ryan pinched his side for that one.

“Smartass,” He grunted, “I bet I’ll have to remind you every day.”

“Probably,” Michael admitted, “Like fucking why?”

Ryan opened his mouth, presumably to tell him, repeat all the things he’d already said, but Michael silenced him by biting his bottom lip. Ryan’s eyes changed, going predatory as his pupils dilated. 

“I can’t wait any longer,” he growled, “I’m taking you now.”

Michael shuddered as Ryan dove down to kiss him, mouth demanding against his own. His tongue delved deeply into his mouth and his teeth nipped at Michael’s lips and a tongue. His hands shoved up Michael’s shirt, groping up his sides and rubbing against his nipples. Michael gasped again, Ryan popping off to trail aggressive, teethy kisses down his throat. Michael groaned, tipping his head back to give him room. 

Ryan’s hands moved around to his back to pull him closer and Michael hissed at his rough treatment on the tender spots. Ryan froze, seeming to realize what he was touching, and started to move back. Michael hopped up, snapping his legs around Ryan’s waist and his arms around his neck.

“No fucking way are you ditching me again you fucking douchebag!” He snarled, “No more halfway fucks! I don’t give a shit what’s happening!”

Ryan laughed, full and hearty, his chest vibrating against Michael’s. Michael’s heart squeezed and in response he squeezed his legs until Ryan grunted in pain. He glared at Michael, prying at his legs.

“You better fuck me like you mean it, _Vagabond,”_ Michael growled.

“I’ll fuck you however I want, _Mogar,”_ Ryan snarled back.

Michael sagged, heat shooting through him like an explosion, sending a moan hurtling out of him. Ryan shoved his hips up against him and he shuddered. _Hot, hard, huge. Fuck, put it in me. Fuck I need it._

“Then beg properly, little boy,” Ryan whispered in his ear.

Michael flushed red as he realized he’d said his thoughts out loud. Ryan bit down on his neck and Michael whined, craning his neck again to give him more room. He dropped his legs, scrambling at his jeans, trying to get them away, so Ryan could get closer. Michael got them open and Ryan shoved them down impatiently. 

One hand gripped the base of Michael’s cock firmly while the other slipped behind him. Michael nearly fully dropped himself on to Ryan’s hand, trying to get his fingers in faster. Ryan obliged to some extent, quickly adding a second, but he moved so slowly Michael thought he was going to die of old age before they got anywhere.

“I don’t hear any begging, baby,” Ryan murmured in his ear, “Do you want me to leave?”

“N-no!” Michael cried frantically, grabbing at Ryan’s jacket, “I w-want you t-to fuck me! Pl-please! It’s been so l-long and I n-need you so bad!”

“Whose fault is it that it’s been so long?” Ryan sneered, jabbing upwards forcefully.

“M-mine,” Michael whimpered, “I-I’m sorry! I j-just got sc-scared!”

Ryan added a third finger suddenly and Michael moaned.

“I know, silly boy,” Ryan cooed in his ear, “But you’ve been so bad. Ignoring me, avoiding me. That’s not very nice, is it?”

“N-no, sir,” Michael answered tearfully.

“Will you accept your punishment?” Ryan groaned in his ear, “Whatever I give y-you?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” Michael squeaked. 

Ryan bit him again before pulling away and yanking him by the bicep over towards the front of his car. Michael whined as the fingers left him but moaned as he was bent over the hood of his car. Ryan pressed to his side, one hand gripping the other side to hold him still. Michael’s brain was struggling to catch up until a gloved palm hit his ass. His lower back dipped and he let out an obscene sound of pain and need.

He whined and moaned as Ryan spanked his ass until it was on fire from the abuse and Michael’s legs shook, struggling to keep himself upright. Michael was blushing redder than his ass by the end of it, flushed with hot shame and need. He cried from pain, from shame, and from frustration to be touched. 

“R-Ry, please!” He moaned, “Pl-please, I need you! Pl-please fuck me, please fill me up!”

“There’s that pretty begging,” Ryan taunted, rubbing a hand over Michael’s inflamed ass, “Come on, let’s hear some more.”

He squeezed and Michael yelped in pain.

“Please! Please! Please!” Michael sobbed, “Please, I need you so b-bad! I’ll-I’ll be a g-good boy, please! I need y-you to f-fill me up, please!”

Ryan groaned and moved behind him. Michael’s lower back strained with the effort of dipping lower and lower to present his ass more fully. Michael was mumbling something, but he had no idea what at this point. Nor did he care when Ryan finally pressed inside him. His whole body opened and pushed towards him, accepting him fully without complaint from his mouth or his ass. Ryan shuddered as he pushed inside and Michael could feel his legs trembling again him.

“Ffffff,” He hissed, as he reached full hilt, “Fuck, Michael you f-feel so fucking good. Y-you always feel so good, so warm and-and soft.”

He pushed Michael’s shirt up his back and Michael shivered as he traced a gloved finger around his mostly healed wounds. Michael had managed to get a peek at them in the mirror and they didn’t look great. Raised skin, still mostly red, but going pinker with time. Jagged edges and tiny circles where the staples went in. It was a mess back there, but Ryan seemed unperturbed as he gently mapped over the marred skin. He started rocking back and forth, warming Michael up while he caressed the skin like it was-

“Beautiful,” Ryan whispered, “My guardian angel.”

Michael choked out a sob, his face going beet red as he buried his head in his arms. 

“Sh-shut up!” He grumbled.

Ryan chuckled again and leaned over him. He pressed a gentle kiss to Michael’s burning ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They whispered, as though it were a secret for only them. Their breathy moans as they reached their climaxes were so soft they could have also been secret. A still moment, a bubble, a memory of just them in that place, only disrupted by their shouts of each others’ names. Neither were likely to forget it as long as they lived. 

~

“So what do you want to put inside?” Jack prompted as they looked down at the display case.

Michael traced his fingers over the edge of the glass where it met the metal of the sides. This was it. The last step to make it official. The last thing to cement him as the official fourth face of the Fake AH crew. He smiled down at the half reflection of his face. The warm brown tone of the velvet and the safety it provided was tempting. 

“Nothing,” he finally answered, “To be dangerous you have to be in danger. My tools can hardly be in danger in this case.”

He turned back to smile at his family. Three of the wildest, scariest, craziest motherfuckers he’d ever met, all in tears. 

“F-fuckin losers,” he muttered, choking on his own tears, “Let’s go b-before we lose the rest of our d-dignity.”

They laughed together, they stood together, they fought together, and some day, they’d die together, but not that day. But tomorrow? Well, Michael couldn’t speak for tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos~! This fic turned our bigger than I expected, but it was good to write. So thank you all for sticking around! ^_^


End file.
